


Scarves of Red

by Sheksper



Series: Six Feet Under, Five Litres Gone [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Art, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Blood Drinking, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Bullying, Candy Hearts, Cuban Lance (Voltron), Drowning, Exsanguination, Gojoseon Keith, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Human Lance (Voltron), Korean Keith (Voltron), Let the Right One In AU, M/M, Morse Code, Murder, Near Death Experiences, POV Lance (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), Plants, Racism, Racist Language, Running Away, Sharing a Bed, Strangers to Lovers, Vampire Keith (Voltron), Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-03-13 05:30:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 83,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13563873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheksper/pseuds/Sheksper
Summary: Lance is an overlooked and bullied high school student who can't wait to graduate so he can start over again in a new town. Everything changes for him when he meets his new neighbour, the mysterious Keith. They slowly form a close bond, and it soon becomes apparent that there's something off about Keith. Eventually, Lance finds out Keith's macabre secret, unravelling the mystery behind the string of bloody local murders.





	1. Garnet Red

**Author's Note:**

> What's up people? What it be? What it do? I'm bACK AT IT AGAIN, with another fic!! Who is ready for this catastrophe?? I know I am! This thing is like 80k words, so buckle the fuck up!

“Are you scared?” Lance glared at the open air in front of him. “Well?” Obviously, he received no answer, but he wasn’t expecting one. “That’s what I thought,” Lance spat, swiping through the air with his pocket knife. The air around it whispered as he slashed at nothing. A confidence that Lance rarely felt wrapped itself around his back, like a shield, protecting him from the helplessness that plagued him so often. Lance continued to practice his sloppy knife tricks, expelling his frustrations. All his worries drained from his mind. He smiled as the pride and power swirled within his chest, warming him up despite the frozen cold outside.

Lance had waited quite some time for his mother to be busy in the other room so that he would be alone. He was, after all, supposed to be sleeping right then and not flinging a knife around. There was just too much pent-up anger and energy in Lance’s system which he had to do something about.

So, rather than sleep, Lance practiced and roleplayed exactly what he wanted to do. It was soothing and calming in some regard, but also served to rile Lance up. That wouldn’t make it easier to fall asleep, but it would satisfy the need to take control which ate at him nearly daily. He let his mind run through every scenario in which he was in control, how he would get there and what he would do with that power. His mind quickly began to get away from him and he clutched the blade until his knuckles turned white.

A car door slammed. Lance instinctively turned to the window of his bedroom. He stared at it a moment, turned to the door of his room to make sure it was still locked, then placed the knife on the bedside table. Lance’s feet settled into the carpet as he strolled up to the window, leaving imprints from where his feet had been pressed for so long. He drew the curtains back, just enough that he could see into the night beyond.

Snow fluttered down, resting gently over the lawn encased by the apartment buildings. It glistened with the minimal light glowing from various windows around, as well as from the street lamps. Normally, Lance would have been imagining the beauty of freshly compacted snow when he took the first steps through the untouched land, but his attention had been caught by something else, or rather, someone else.

From where the car door had been slammed, Lance could make out the figure of someone removing luggage from the back of the car. Lance couldn’t determine anything concrete about the other person, especially since they had the hood of their deep red winter jacket flipped up over their head. Briefly, they glanced up at Lance’s window, making eye contact with him. Their eyes bore into Lance, even for the split second they connected, and Lance instantly dropped the curtain, stumbling away from the window as if he had been burned. It was too dark to distinguish much, but Lance couldn’t hardly forget the person’s eyes, sharp and dangerous.

Lance stared at the covered window, debating whether or not he wanted to chance another look. He decided against it. Cautiously, uncertainly, Lance wandered back over to his bedside table and retrieved his knife. Back to what he was doing. Lance narrowed his eyebrows and attempted to get back into his character. A character which he tried to convince himself was his true self.

“You shouldn’t mess with me,” Lance threatened menacingly, stabbing his knife out as if he was about to mug a person. “Yeah, not so tough now!” Lance angrily hissed. He didn’t want his mother to hear him from the other room. Lance paused, glancing to the door again. His mother didn’t sound like she was coming, so Lance smirked to himself and continued to fight the air with his knife.

After a moment of his pretend fighting, Lance heard movement through the wall against his bed. He paused, staring at the wall and listening. Things being shifted and moved could be heard. Those people downstairs must have been moving in. The apartment next door had been vacant for awhile. Lance preferred it to be empty. It meant that there were no noisy people to keep him up all night and no one to complain when he got to excited during his knife slashing practices. He narrowed his eyebrows at the wall. If it was the person outside, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. That person with the strong stare seemed interesting.

Lance listened some more, shuffling closer to the wall to better hear anything that might be going on across the way. Clattering of items being settled. Nothing else though. He could hear the soft footsteps of the person who he had seen outside but nothing else. He waited a second, but when it continued to be silent, he gave up, sighing and settling back onto his bed, knife in hand.

Lance stared at the wall for a moment, then back down at his knife. He would have to return it before the next morning so his mother wouldn’t find it. The next morning. Lance had school. He shuddered at the thought, dread filling his veins as he imagined how his day would go. Angrily, Lance tossed his knife onto the carpet floor. He huffed, overwhelmed, and tumbled back onto his back to stare at the ceiling.

His thoughts shifted back to the person’s deep and intimidating stare as he laid there, causing a shiver to travel up his spine without permission. Something about that gaze set off alarm bells within Lance’s mind, yet also pulled him in like a magnet, guiding him closer and deeper. It felt dangerous, the gleam in their eyes alluding to a grave threat which Lance almost wanted to test. It was also curious, careful, calculated.

Lance shook his head, dispelling any thoughts of his new neighbour. Maybe he would see them around sometime. Perhaps they were attending his high school too, seeing as they had just moved into the area and there was nowhere else to take classes at.

Whatever the case, Lance could feel his eyelids drooping at the methodical tapping of feet through the wall and the soft sheets beneath him. His mother’s television show buzzed away in the background, lulling Lance. He eventually sighed, scooted himself under the covers, snuggled close to the blankets and convinced himself that he would be strong the next day until he finally fell asleep.

 

◊ ◊ ◊

 

Lance’s foot tapped against the tiled floor impatiently. He kept his eyes firmly on the scratched-up desk below him as he trailed a fingernail through one of the many grooves in the old wood. The teacher was talking, not really saying anything of importance. Everything she said, Lance already knew from first hand experience. For the majority of his life, Lance had lived in Cuba and spent his time down by the beach, but being up in Montana was vastly different. Although he had been living in the snowy state for nearly six years, he still wasn’t over how cold it got in the winter. Still, it did help when the teacher was talking about marine life and Lance knew all that there was to know.

“Can anyone tell me the name of the lower-most portion of a body of water and what sorts of things might be down there?” the teacher asked, turning away from the board to scan the class.

Lance glanced at his classmates, almost hoping someone else would raise their hand, but of course, no one did. Hesitantly, Lance lifted his hand above his head. The teacher’s eyes instantly narrowed in on him, her eyes lighting up and a smile gracing her delicate features.

“Lance,” she chirped, “go ahead.”

“The benthic zone,” Lance replied with ease. “It has sand, rocks, coral, mud, crustaceans, and marine worms.” He could feel everyone’s eyes on him, listening as he rattled off his answer. They hadn’t been learning about marine life the entire year, but from the small amount of time that they had been learning about the water, everyone in the class had come to learn that Lance was an expert.

“That’s right, Lance, thank you!” the teacher smiled. Lance had a feeling that the teacher was more than happy to let him answer questions since he was a sure participant in the class. Most of the time, no one would raise their hand.

Lance nodded in acknowledgement as she continued with her lesson. Something nagged at Lance though. He could feel it on the back of his head; eyes. It wasn’t the same kind of feeling as when he was answering a question and everyone was listening, it was something else, something more threatening. He didn’t dare turn his head, but he could pinpoint exactly where the stares were coming from with extreme accuracy. Of course, they were going to choose today, why wouldn’t they? It didn’t matter if Lance answered or not, he knew what was coming once he exited the classroom to leave at the end of the day, it was always the same. Lance ducked his head, hoping that the feeling of their eyes on him was nothing more than paranoia, that there wasn’t anything waiting for him on the outside when the bell rang.

If Lance hurried, maybe he would be able to pack everything up and hurry home before they caught him. Or maybe he could hide out in the boy’s bathroom until they got tired of waiting for him and he could slip away. His family would wonder where he had been, and he wouldn’t have a suitable answer. His mother would chew him out for being late, but at least the cat, Blue, would still be there to surround him with love. He was better off hurrying. It was a snowstorm out there, but he could shave off a few minutes if he just grabbed his coat and rushed out the door without putting it on first. He could put it on while he was running home.

Lance was so lost in panicked thoughts about his plan to save himself that he didn’t even notice when the class came to a close. By the time he zoned back in, the teacher was assigning some reading and everyone was jamming their work into their backpacks. Lance checked the clock quickly, jolting into action as he realized there were two minutes left before class was out. He frantically pushed all his paper haphazardly into his bag, not caring if they crumpled or ripped. Lance hunched over his bag as he closed it, using his position to subtly flick his eyes over to the desks at the back of room. Sure enough, there, at the back of the classroom, sat the trio.

Rolo, the leader of the group, the head of the pack. He was a gruff guy, too tall and too muscular to be anything but intimidating. Black stubble dotted his chin, a stark contrast to the solid white of his hair. Lance was sure that it wasn’t naturally white, but at the same time, he couldn’t imagine where a guy like Rolo would find the money, or even the time, to constantly get his hair done. At the same time, Rolo was always wearing the same raggedy brown beanie, so his roots could be covered. Both his ears were pierced and holding gold, dangling earrings. He wore those everyday too. Lance could see he had on his denim vest with his white wife beater. Maybe it was due to the fact that Lance had never grown up in the snowy state of Montana while Rolo had, but he could never understand how someone consciously decided to wear such little clothing in the middle of winter.

Next to him, was Nyma, Rolo’s girlfriend. She was leaning forward with her head resting daintily on her palm. Nyma was a beautiful girl, always keeping her light blonde hair in two twin pigtails high up on her head. A turquoise headband adorned her head, matching the tank top she was wearing. Much like her boyfriend, she also seemed to have no qualms with the cold. She had a delicate face with soft feminine features, from her nose to her eyebrows. Outlining her lips was a gentle pink lipstick, the same shade as the coloured contacts that she never removed. Lance didn’t even know what her real eye colour was since she claimed that the pink was her real eye colour. No one believed her, but no one said anything either.

Last, but not least, was Beezer. Lance often wondered if that was even his real name. He was a bit of a weird guy anyway, not even including his name. His skin was so pale and white, as though he had never seen the sun, never heard of the sun. His eyes were also a very odd thing. Lance found it difficult to look any of them in the eye without flinching, but Beezer really freaked him out. The iris was such a light shade of blue, that from afar, it always appeared as though he didn’t have an iris at all, like it just transitioned from sclera directly into pupil. It was highly unsettling, even though the boy himself wasn’t that scary. He dyed his hair a turquoise and always wore a headband with cat ears in the same shade. Lance wondered if the point was to match Nyma’s colour scheme. Beezer was also always wearing the same white hoodie which was far too big for him. He looked like he was swimming in it, a stark contrast to Nyma and Rolo with their summer outfits.

All three of them were watching Lance, waiting for him. Lance could practically feel their intentions crawling over his skin like beetles. He needed to leave the second the bell rang, otherwise he wasn’t getting out of there freely. Lance could feel his palms sweating and his heart beating as he waited, still with his face to the ground. His veins hummed with adrenaline, weakening him and numbing him, but getting him ready to run once the bell went. A spike of fear at the prospect of being caught before he could get home sparked within his chest. His fingers itched. Everyone around him bustled, seemingly unaware of the tension between Lance and the three-person gang watching over him like vultures.

The bell rang, signalling the end of class, and subsequently, the end of the day. Lance immediately shot out of his desk, grabbing his backpack by the strap and trailing it behind him as he started moving toward the door at the front of the room. The momentum of his movement swung the backpack up and onto his back. He caught the other strap right as he slipped past another girl in his class who was still packing her things. He could hear the scraping of chairs as Rolo, Nyma, and Beezer stood from their seats to follow behind him. Lance squeezed out of the door, slipping around and cutting someone off so he could get out just that much faster.

Once in the hallway, Lance hurried down the hallway, using his long legs to his advantage. Through the sounds of kids talking, yelling, and lockers being opened and closed, Lance couldn’t hear the tell-tale click of Nyma’s heels or the heavy footfall of Rolo, but he knew they were there, trailing him.

Lance’s locker was within sight and Lance couldn’t have been more thankful. He sent a silent thank you to the universe. Lance sped up a little bit, already reaching out to grab his lock. As he crashed into his locker, Lance’s hands flew to the dial, turning it in a familiar pattern. He fumbled, his hands shaking. The lock released. Lance immediately removed it from the locker, opening the door enough to quickly grab his textbook and his coat before slamming it again and jamming the lock back in place. He didn’t bother to reset the dial back to zero.

Turning, Lance prepared to sprint away, but before he was able, a large hand smacked violently onto the locker next to his own head, blocking his path. Lance, not expecting the action, nearly clotheslined himself. A chill ran up his spine, colder than even the snow outside. The weight that dropped into his stomach was heavier than Lance was ever expecting and he felt nauseous. The blood drained from his face and his eyes widened, following the arm up until he came face to face with the smoldering glare of Rolo. Nyma hung off his shoulder, watching on with similar amusement, while Beezer sidled up beside Lance, staring at him over his shoulder with his dead, near-white eyes.

“Quite the know-it-all, huh?” Rolo sneered.

Nyma hummed in agreement. “You don’t really think you’re special because you’re a teacher’s pet, do you?” she laughed. It was harsh, dulling her beauty.

“Don’t be too hard on him,” Beezer defended. He quickly scooted closer, getting as close to Lance’s face as he dared. Lance reared back, pressing himself into the locker door to avoid the proximity. Beezer was creepy enough from afar. “He had to do something to keep himself busy while he was rowing over here. Isn’t that right, Raft Monkey?” Beezer grinned, his lips widening.

Nyma and Rolo both laughed, ugly smirks curling over their faces as they watched Lance squirm. Lance glanced past Rolo to the other people in the hallway, but none of them were willing to help him, they never had been. Everyone turned a blind eye, pretending they didn’t notice when Lance was cornered at his locker by Rolo, Nyma, and Beezer. Lance hated them all for it, but he also couldn’t blame them. The group could make someone’s life hell and he wouldn’t want to get involved either. He told himself he would help someone in need if it came down to it, but he couldn’t even help himself.

“Remember to bundle up out there,” Rolo hissed. Lance’s mother was always reminding him to grab a jacket before he left the apartment in the winter, but never had the words sounded so sinister. “Sand Yerds freeze easy.”

Lance bit his lip, coercing himself to calm down. Rolo reached up, quickly flicking Lance in the forehead before Lance was even able to process the action. Lance flinched, backing himself into the locker again and squeezing his eyes shut. He heard the laughter fill the hall once more and listened as the hand next to his head dislodged itself from the locker. Rolo stalked off, his crew following behind him. Lance listened for another moment, hearing their laughter disappear around the corner. It died away, allowing Lance to safely open his eyes. He was alone in the hallway, everyone else already having left.

He hadn’t been fast enough, it seemed.

Lance stood there, his jacket hanging limply from his hand and his backpack digging into his shoulder. His eyes stung and his throat felt dry. A clock ticked somewhere above him. Footsteps could be heard distantly down the hall. A door opened in another part of the school. Lance breathed in deeply, too loud in the quiet hall. He swallowed heavily. Then, after a moment, of staring at the chipped floor tiles, Lance forced himself to detach from the locker and head to the doors. His feet echoed off the empty halls.

As Lance pushed open the front door of the school, a rush of winter air attacked him. Lance shielded his face in his sleeve momentarily, then continued on his way, heading back around the building to take the path through the woods that lead home. He didn’t live too far from the school, but he knew he would freeze if he didn’t put his coat on. Lance slung his backpack onto his arm, sliding the jacket on one sleeve at a time as he walked, never slowing or stopping. It was already dark, Lance didn’t need to waste anymore time. Luckily, he wasn’t late enough that his mother would wonder where he had been. That was always good. Less questions were good.

The frigid cold bit at Lance’s exposed ears, making him wish he had worn his hat today, but that was just another thing he would have to grab from his locker at the end of the day, slowing him down. It was a liability, no matter how much it saddened him to be lying to his mother about wearing the cap. He could picture it crumpled under his bed where he had stuffed it to keep from his family finding out.

Lance’s feet crunched along the compacted snow of the park path, the only sound around other than the occasional flap of a bird’s wing or the rustle of a tree in the wind. Lance didn’t mind the silence or the dark. He didn’t love it, and he didn’t go out of his way to catch it, but when everything around him quieted down and the visibility lowered, allowing his eyes to relax, Lance couldn’t help but slow down and enjoy the peace.

Lance cozied farther into his coat, attempting to keep the cold out, although it was a fruitless effort. The cold always found a way to get to Lance, that was what he had discovered since moving to the States. Luckily, Lance’s apartment complex was close enough that he wasn’t too cold. His toes were numb, but that was the only damage. All it took was a fuzzy pair of socks and quick run through with the hairdryer and Lance was as good as new.

Just as Lance was making his way to the front, his memories replayed in his brain; the night before, the man who had moved in next door to him, his piercing gaze. Lance quickly glanced up to the window beside his own. It was usually empty, the light always off as no one lived there, but this time, Lance could see something. They looked like plant leaves all along the windowsill. There was a low light on inside the apartment itself, further illuminating the leaves. The closer Lance walked, the more certain he was that they were plants. Lance smiled. The intimidating man that Lance had seen the night before didn’t seem like the type to keep houseplants. Something about that was interesting, but Lance didn’t have much time to dwell on it.

As fast as he could, Lance rushed over to the door of the apartment building, pressing in his code and slipping through the door. The warmth wrapped around him the second he stepped into the lobby. Lance huffed a breath, patting his hands repeatedly to his cheeks to warm them up. After wiping his shoes on the mat, Lance made his way to the stairs. The third floor wasn’t too much of a walk, but Lance was tired enough after the entire encounter at school that his feet dragged the entire way up the stairs, each step feeling like more of a struggle than it should.

Lance passed the door of the mysterious new resident, staring at it momentarily and slowing down before continuing on his way. He picked his key out of his pocket, jamming it into the lock and turning. The door gave way, allowing Lance into the apartment.


	2. Vermillion Red

He stood in the snow, rocking back and forth on his feet as he waited. The snow fell down, dotting his solid black hair with specks of white, like a galaxy. That didn’t matter though, the snow and the cold, they didn’t matter. He was waiting for someone. No one in particular, just someone. He stared out at the trees around him, tall and spindly with branches like frail hands, reaching out. They didn’t freak him out, in fact, they were a comfort. He had always loved the winter since it got darker sooner. The dark was such a gentle creature. He stared back up at the trees again, wondering what they looked like in the summer, if they were just as beautiful as the old and worn tendrils of wood that made up the trees’ winter appearance.

A sound up the trail alerted his attention and he flicked his eyes to the side while keeping his head directed upwards. Farther down, walking in his direction, was a man on a jog. What kind of person went jogging at such a late hour in the winter. He looked so focused too, what a strange man. He shouldn’t be bothered. As he got closer, it became clear that there were headphones in his ears. If anyone were to talk to him, they wouldn’t be heard. Best to leave him alone, bother someone else. There was time, it was fine.

The man ran by, raising a hand in passing acknowledgement. His feet were loud against the snow and his bulky winter jacket rustled with every move of his arms. What a hassle that man must be. He turned to watch the guy run by, the empty five-gallon gas can tied to his belt hitting him in the leg as he followed the movement. His noise was drowned out pretty fast as he left earshot. One again, he was alone with just his galaxy hair and his beautiful trees. He waited some more, for someone else. Anyone else. Hopefully someone who wasn’t running nowhere fast.

And, as luck would have it, even in the middle of the icy winter night, there were still tons of people out apparently. It wasn’t long before he heard it, the melodic sound of snow being pressed under someone’s shoe. He slowly turned his head to stare down the track. A blonde woman was wandering down the trail at a moderate pace, much better than a jog. Frosted air coagulated in front of him as he sighed in relief.

The lady was just about to pass by, but she was stopped as he stepped in her path. She startled back a little bit, but he gave her an easy smile. He had perfected it over the years. Even though he had never been good with other people, and probably never would be, considering how anti social he was, he was still an expert in schooling his expression to fool anyone into a sense of calm. The key was feeling the emotion he was attempting to exude into the other party. The lady visibly relaxed, still keeping her distance anyway.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” he opened with, looking guilty. And that one wasn’t a farce, he really did feel guilty. “I just moved here and I’m… Well, I’m lost. Can you tell me which way Lion Castle is?”

The woman tilted her head slightly. “The apartment building?” she asked.

He nodded. “That’s the one.”

She smiled at him sweetly, her eyes lighting up at the opportunity to help someone. The only problem was that she wouldn’t be helping anyone. He knew which way the apartments were, he had just walked from them not half an hour ago. He wasn’t lost.

The lady turned back the way she had come from, perfect opportunity in every way as her attention was diverted. There was hardly enough time for the woman to raise her hand to point and open her mouth to direct him before he was surging forward. He wrapped his arm around her neck, forcing her back and into his chest while his other hand pushed on the back of her head to keep her in place. Rather than hoping someone would walk by, he now hoped that they would be alone for awhile. The carotid artery was cut off, no blood flow getting through to her brain. She gargled, unable to scream. He could feel as she struggled against his arm, scratching his coat with all her might. This wasn’t his first job, he knew the scratching could be his downfall. He also knew that this entire method of collection wasn’t the safest for him, he could so easily be caught, but he was getting desperate.

He backed down the side of the hill, off the trail, guiding her along with him. The angle created an even more convenient trap for her, pressing harder into her artery and tripping her feet. Only ten seconds had passed, but she was already out like a light. He dragged her through the snow, her feet creating trenches where they scraped at the ground. He glanced up to the sky where the snow continued to flutter down rapidly. With a sigh, he hoped that the tracks would be buried under heaps of the snow and brushes of wind by the time morning hit.

A full two minutes had gone by and he still hadn’t removed his arm as he lugged her farther and farther from the path. No one had come by and noticed him kidnapping and killing a woman, thank goodness for that. He really didn’t want to have to kill two people. One was enough. Speaking of enough, he was positive that it was fine to remove his arm. She was dead. There was no way that she would be alive after two minutes in a rear naked choke hold. He unhooked himself from her, draping her across one arm while he checked her pulse with the other. Dead, just as he had suspected. In one, swift action, he managed to swing her up into a bridal carry. She was very light, even as deadweight. This was much easier.

As he wandered through the empty forest, he made sure to keep his eyes on the trees that he passed. None of them were good enough. They were all very nice to look at, but none were as strong as he was looking for. Finally, after what felt like forever, he saw the perfect tree. Not too tall, not too short, not too thin either.

He laid the girl in the snow at the base of the tree, brushing her hair out of her face. For a moment, he just stared at her dead form, then, with a sigh, he got to work. Pulling a long rope from his pocket, he began tying her legs and feet up, a strong knot that wouldn’t be slipping out anytime soon. He chucked the rope over the branch of the tree so it dangled over onto the other side. With a heave, he yanked the woman off the ground, pulling and pulling until she was suspended a couple inches off the ground. Her arms and her hair splayed out below her. He tied the rope off so that she wouldn’t fall while he was working.

Once more, he gave a final look around the area to check for anyone passing by. Luckily, he was far enough away from the trail that no one should have noticed him. He turned back to his victim. With one hand, he unclipped the gas can from his belt, and with the other, he removed a small, red funnel from his coat pocket. He set them up, twisting the cap of the gas can off so that he could place the funnel inside, then he pushed them underneath where the woman’s head dangled. Still keeping his eyes firmly on the victim, he reached around his back and unsheathed the knife he had on his person at all times, his most prized possession. After swiping some of her hair away and steadying her head, he sliced the neck open, right through the same artery he had used to incapacitate her.

Blood instantly began pouring out of the wound, a steady stream of the red liquid pooling and filling the gas can with a hollow dripping sound. He grinned wider, all hint of guilt escaping him as the delectable blood continued to flow. Saliva began to pool in his mouth and he was forced to swallow, his breathing becoming ragged. It took everything he had not to immediately latch his mouth to her neck and start sucking it right out of her, but he had to make it last as long as he could, he knew.

He rolled his shoulders. He swiped his tongue sloppily against his lips. He dug his fingers into the snow so far that his nails breached the ground, lodging into the dirt. He grumbled in the back of his throat. He breathed as deeply through his nose as he could. He widened his eyes before narrowing them again. Why did it take so long for the blood to drain from a body? Exsanguination shouldn’t be so difficult.

His thoughts trailed through everything he still had to do before he would be able to enjoy his blood in peace. Drain the body, dump the body, cover his tracks, make it back to his apartment building. It didn’t sound like a lot, but it really was. He sighed, exhausted just from the thought of it.

_Bark!_

His eyes widened in fear. Immediately, he spun around from where he was knelt in the snow. There, watching him with a curious gaze, was a dog. Just a little, golden lab with a wagging tail and a floppy tongue. It wasn’t the size of a full-grown dog, but it also wasn’t a puppy. It stared, watching what he was doing and waiting for him to do something, but all he felt was fear and panic. He instantly stared hard from the area where the dog had come.

This didn’t make any sense, there wasn’t even a trail here, it was just snow and trees.

“Toby!” a woman’s voice shouted.

His fears were confirmed. Where there was a dog, there was an owner, and owner was just another word for witness. He leaped to his feet, not even bothering to grab the can of blood or do anything about the dog which was barking at him, he just raced through the trees. He could hear the woman call the dog’s name again, cut off halfway by a scream that tore through the park and directly into his veins as adrenalin. His legs pushed forward, hoping upon every hope that they wouldn’t notice him as he sprinted through the snow and up the trail. Huffs of breath escaped him, which he tried his hardest to muffle, to disguise so that he wouldn’t be heard. Only once did he look back, but he was going too fast to see anything. The path was still empty, thank goodness, but he didn’t risk stopping for a breath, he just kept racing until he made it to the apartment building. His heart was beating out of chest, throbbing and frantic.

Leaning against the wall outside, he let himself catch his breath. Anger flared within him. “Fuck,” he hissed under his breath. The blood was still there, the body was still there, it was all still there. If there was one thing he didn’t need, it was attention being drawn to the fact that he was collecting blood. The police were going to be out looking for him soon if he wasn’t careful. He glanced down at his winter coat. It was stained with blood. “Fuck!” he cursed again, slamming his head into the brick wall behind him out of frustration.

Irritation and rage filled him. He clenched his fists and pushed off the wall to stalk back into the apartment building, returning home hungry and empty-handed.

 

◊ ◊ ◊

 

Lance, despite complaining about the cold, wasn’t about the pass up the opportunity to be alone in the frozen tundra of the backyard. After greeting his mother and his cat, telling them all about his day in the most extravagant manner he could – leaving out the part where he was cornered after school, of course – then he left to go change out of his school clothes. That didn’t mean he was done for the day though. He quickly changed into a warmer sweater and jammed the hat that he had hidden under the bed back onto his head where it belonged. Still under his mattress, where he had hidden it, was his pocket knife, which he also grabbed before bolting out of the apartment.

Once he was outside in the courtyard of Lion Castle, he hesitantly wandered through the snow. His boots crunched and he tumbled around, attempting to keep himself upright from the uneven terrain. There was a tree in the back of the courtyard that Lance had taken a particular liking to. It wasn’t a very healthy tree, even in the summer, but it made for good practice.

After trudging his way to the tree, he slowly removed the knife from his pocket, keeping his eyes up on the window of his apartment the entire time. He knew it was unlikely, but he kept expecting his mother to yank the curtains back and point directly at him, catching him in the act of something he knew he wasn’t supposed to be doing. Or maybe his cat would come running out, hissing and meowling, and accidentally rat him out. But no one checked in on him, they never did. They trusted Lance. At least, that was what he told himself. It was actually much more likely that they didn’t care what he did at all while he was outside, assuming he just sat and breathed in the cool air. So, with cautious movements, Lance pulled the knife out and forcefully turned his eyes to the tree, telling himself he was being ridiculous.

With an air of confidence that he didn’t really feel, Lance stabbed out, jabbing the blade directly into the bark of the wood. He grunted, pulling it out again. “What? You seem a little tongue tied, Rolo, what’s wrong?” He smirked. This time, with a little more strength behind his hit, Lance slashed forward. The blade lodged into the tree again. Lance laughed. Not a full-blown laugh, but a little chuckle; a breathy, disbelieving, huff of a laugh. He ripped the knife from the tree and stabbed it once more. “You piece of sh–”

“What’re you doing?” a voice called from behind Lance.

Lance whipped around, instinctively hiding the blade behind his back in case it was someone who didn’t need to know about that. It wasn’t. Seated at the top of the rickety old playground next to the tree was the mysterious guy who had moved in next door to Lance with all the plants. He had yet to meet the man yet, but even this close up, he still had the most piercing eyes that Lance had ever seen. They bore in Lance and he was forced to turn away.

“Me? I’m not doing– Nothing. I’m doing nothing…” he answered shakily. Of course, that was a lie, and the new neighbour was aware of that. Lance couldn’t be sure how long he had been there, but he knew it was long enough to see that Lance was stabbing a tree. Great. He looked like a serial killer now.

The man didn’t seem fazed, nodding along as if he believed what Lance was saying. Surprisingly, he didn’t bother to push the reason behind Lance’s knife practice, he just commented, “Your form is terrible.”

Lance stared back up at the guy again. “What?” he asked, unsure if he had heard that correctly.

“You’re going to hurt yourself if you keep holding your knife like that,” he continued.

“Right… Uh… Have you been watching me the whole time?” Lance raised an eyebrow, still feeling as though he had been caught red-handed. It wasn’t like this guy was going to go tell his mother about what he was doing, that would be ridiculous, but he was still not supposed to be there.

“It’s just some advice,” the guy nonchalantly replied, staring Lance down in the most causal of ways.

With a sheepish sort of defiance, Lance countered, “Well, I didn’t ask for your _advice.”_

“Do you want to kick Rolo’s ass or not?” He raised a judgemental eyebrow.

Lance sputtered, “O-Oh… You heard that…” Lance stepped back until he hit the tree.

The man shrugged. “Makes no difference to me,” he assured. “Your thumb shouldn’t be on the blade like that; you’re more likely to hurt yourself or have your knife knocked out of your hand.”

Lance narrowed his eyes at the man, taking his time to really analyze him. He was sitting and hunched over a bit, so Lance couldn’t tell how tall he was, but he seemed strong enough if his arms were anything to go by. Which was odd enough on its own, seeing as it was the middle of winter and the guy had the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows. He was also only wearing jeans with black combat boots. No gloves, scarf, hat, jacket, nothing. There was no way that guy was alright, he had to be freezing. Lance scanned his face quickly, expecting to see red patches of skin or visible shivering, but the guy was unhealthily pale and not the least bit concerned about his lack of warm clothing. And, wow, okay, he was attractive, even with his dishevelled, black hair that dangled in front of his eyes and tickled the nape of his neck.

Suddenly, Lance remembered why they were here in the first place and the conversation that led him to staring at the man. He glanced down at his knife. Sure enough, Lance had placed his thumb right on the top of the blade to help him steady it. He looked back at the guy who hadn’t stopped watching him the entire time. “So, what are you; some kind of knife fighting expert?” Lance asked. It was a genuine question but the way he had said it made it sound smarmy and overconfident.

The guy – Lance realized that he still didn’t know his name – reached back behind himself, pulling a knife out of a sheath that was on his back which Lance hadn’t been able to see from his vantage point. It was a lot bigger than Lance’s own pocket knife and clearly well taken care of by the way it gleamed off the shitty outdoor lights. There were bandages wrapped around the handle which ended just before the black pommel. Lance could just barely make out a purple sigil on the quillon, but he couldn’t tell exactly what it looked like, he was too far away. Though it really was a beautiful blade.

For the first time since Lance had met him, the man removed his eyes from Lance and kept them carefully on the blade in his hands. He twirled it around slowly. Lance followed it along too, captivated by the way he moved it with such precision, as though it belonged in his hand.

“Not really an expert,” he mumbled, but it was so quiet outside that Lance had no trouble hearing him.

Lance tilted his head. “But you do know something about knives,” Lance smirked. It wasn’t a question.

His intense gaze flicked back up to Lance. The corner of his lips quirked dangerously. Lance could feel the moment his heart palpitated, but whether or not it was out of fear, he couldn’t tell, but there was definitely a flash of attraction. Then, in a split-second motion, the man lifted his arm back and whipped it forward again, his wrist flicking as the knife left his grip. Lance couldn’t even follow the movement. One moment, the knife was being smoothed over by the guy’s rough hands, and the next second, it was lodged into the tree directly beside Lance’s head with a splintering thud.

Lance stood there, paralyzed, eyes widened in shock. His heart was thundering in his chest. Lance’s limbs suddenly felt like lead, weighing him down. “I know a few things,” the guy said cryptically, as though he hadn’t just chucked a knife at Lance’s head. He heaved himself off of the playground, landing in the snow lightly. Lance still didn’t move, even as the guy stalked towards him. That really should have been threatening and not super hot, but Lance was already way past the point of not talking to strangers.

Before, Lance had felt a lot of trepidation towards the guy, but now he could feel his emotions wavering, a confused pool of fear, awe, and interest swirling within his mind. His heart sped up the closer the man came until they were a foot apart. “Who are you…?” Lance asked, not really sure what he was asking or why. His voice wavered.

He reached a hand up to grasp the knife he had stuck into the tree. “Keith,” he answered curtly, yanking back. The knife retracted from the tree, slipping out quite nicely back into Keith’s hand. “And you are?” Keith asked, still just as close as before and making no move to step backwards.

“The name’s Lance,” he blurted out, still feeling like his veins were charged with adrenalin. He could feel his cheeks heating up the longer he stared at Keith. With a nod in acknowledge at Lance’s name, he turned to head back to the playground, or maybe the building, Lance couldn’t tell. “You moved in up there, right?” Lance quickly asked, stepping after Keith unconsciously, drawn to him. He already knew the answer, but he needed to ask him something before he left entirely. The thought of Keith leaving now flared panic within him, for some reason.

Keith stopped, spinning on his heel to meet Lance’s eyes. “Yeah, I did,” he answered.

Lance laughed nervously. “I’m your next-door neighbour, actually,” he told him, hoping he didn’t sound too much like a stalker.

Keith didn’t say anything for a second, just staring at Lance and nodding. “Maybe we’ll see each other again then,” Keith replied. Then, he turned once more. As he walked back to the apartment building, he placed his knife back into the sheath on his waist.

Once he was through the door, Lance let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Something about Keith was strange, off in some way, but Lance couldn’t help but feel attracted to whatever it was about Keith that made him that way. “Yeah…” Lance whispered airily to himself. “Maybe…”

A cool breeze swooped over Lance, causing him to cower back into his coat. His eyes clenched shut and he leaned into himself. After the wind passed, he uncurled. It felt like it was getting colder and darker by the second, but Lance no longer felt like he was out in the snow doing something he shouldn’t. He felt safe, almost protected.

Lance glanced down to the pocketknife in his hand, turning it back and forth to inspect the blade. It seemed so lacklustre after seeing Keith’s knife, even though Lance had always been rather proud of his little knife and the power it gave him. Keith was a somewhat strange guy. Lance had thought that the moment he had seen him from the window, but now that he had formally met him, he could say that his stance didn’t waver, Keith was still an oddball. Not in a bad way though, Lance actually found himself looking forward to meeting him again. Maybe it was just the effects of living in a small town that he couldn’t escape from for so many years and having a new face show up, but Lance could feel it in his bones when he said that he would meet Keith again, somewhere, somehow.

For now, Lance studied his pocketknife. He slid his thumb over the spine of the blade for a moment, then he moved it back to secure it around the rest of his hand. The grip felt a little bit weird, as though he had less control, but the more he glided it through the air, the more he began to realize that Keith had been right.

Lance spent another few minutes stabbing at the tree and threatening it as though it were Rolo, Nyma, and Beezer. He only decided to go back inside when the frost bit at his cheeks and he couldn’t feel his toes anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you're interested, I have some [Keith art](https://sheksper.tumblr.com/post/170560035860/here-is-a-sketch-i-made-of-keith-from-my-fic)  
> It's just a sketch, so don't roast it too hard.


	3. Crimson Red

“I understand that some of you may be scared or worried because of this incident. There is safety in numbers, though, so remember that if you walk home, you should always have a buddy to walk with you. If you see someone you’ve never met, even if they don’t seem all that threatening to you, that doesn’t mean you should trust them. If you see anything suspicious, you should report it to a teacher, parent, guardian, or the police. The counsellor is available at lunch if you need to speak with someone.”

Lance really wasn’t paying attention to what the teacher was saying. He had heard it in the news that a lady was found strung up from a tree with her throat slit, bleeding out into a bucket, but he hadn’t found it all that worrisome. Maybe he should have, but he really didn’t. It was like a mystery, and Lance was a fan of mysteries.

It also didn’t help that there were other things on his mind. One would assume that a serial killer in the area would take priority over everything else in Lance’s mind, but one would be wrong. All Lance could think about was the fact that the bell was about to ring and he was going to have to come up with a new way out of the school before Rolo, Nyma, and Beezer caught up to him. This week’s strategy was to hide in the bathroom. Sure, Rolo and Beezer could chase him in there, but if he ran fast enough, then they wouldn’t even see him head in there and he would be safe. Lance mentally walked through the school, creating a map of his path to get to the nearest bathroom. There was one by his locker that he could hide out in. They’d get bored of waiting pretty fast, surely.

Lance really wished he could just stand up to them, just fight them head-on without worrying. Rolo was strong though, he could probably pick Lance up off the ground if he really wanted to. He wasn’t the type of guy that one wanted to mess with. Nyma was fast and quick. She always sauntered her way around the school with a little sashay to her hips, but the second she needed to, she could pull out some extremely fast reflexes. It was honestly scary sometimes. Beezer was intelligent. Not in the way that he was school smart, because he wasn’t, but he was smart in that he always seemed to know what you were going to do before you did it. He was people smart, he could read others and predict their moves. Together, they made an unbeatable team.

In Lance’s dreams, he was a fighter like no other, he could bring all three of them to their knees without an issue. He would laugh at them, show them the fear that he had been experiencing because of them. They wouldn’t be so tough then, not once Lance put them in their place.

But he couldn’t do that. He was just one person and he didn’t have that kind of power. He had a pocketknife, sure, but he couldn’t bring that to school. If he ever brought any kind of weapon to school, he would instantly be suspended, or even expelled. That wouldn’t look good, and it would disappoint his family too. Lance didn’t want that. It wasn’t like he could fight them off with his fists though, and certainly not with his words.

Keith could. Lance thought back to the mysterious guy with the knife throwing skills of a champ. He would be able to take on Rolo, Nyma, and Beezer all at the same time and still come out on top, Lance was sure of it. Maybe Keith would be willing to teach him a few tricks. It definitely wouldn’t hurt to be able to toss a knife the way Keith could. And maybe Lance just wanted to meet Keith again, that would also be a selling point for the idea. Lance would have to ask Keith next time he saw him.

Lance was suddenly ripped from his thoughts by the bell ringing through the room. He stood immediately on instinct, grabbing his bag and weaving through the throngs of students to get to the door. After so long trying to avoid the trio in the back row, Lance had become a bit of an expert on navigating crowds. It was his secret talent.

As soon as Lance popped out from the classroom and into the hallway, he made a beeline to the bathroom that he had been thinking of as his refuge for the past little while. He shoved the door open, pressing it closed behind him after he was through, just in case Rolo noticed it opening and thought he had seen a mop of brown hair shuffling inside. Lance rushed to the back of the empty bathroom, choosing a stall he could easily hide in. Once inside, he shut and locked the door, pressing himself up against the wall.

It was silent for a long time, the only noises being the ones from the kids in the hallway, laughing and running around. For a moment, Lance’s brain filled with fantasies of having friends who wanted to hang out with him, all waiting for him at his locker instead of what was really at his locker. Taking a deep breath, Lance willed the thoughts away. He didn’t need that to be happy, he was okay. Soon, Lance would graduate, then he would be on his way out of this small town, never looking back. Lance had better things ahead, he knew it.

Lance waited. He waited for what felt like forever. Eventually, the noises from the hallway died away, leaving Lance in the deafening silence. He continued to wait though, not completely sure that it was safe. Lance pressed into the wall farther, as though it would make time speed up. He could practically hear his heart beating in his ears as he struggled to hear any voices on the other side. But still, he heard nothing.

Cautiously, Lance stepped away from the wall. He unlocked the door, flinching when it clicked loudly, but nothing happened, no one jumped out at him. Lance took a shaky breath, then he pushed the door open and slipped outside. The bathroom was still empty. Rolo wasn’t leaned up against a sink, waiting for Lance with a smirk. Beezer wasn’t there to laugh at him with his grating, low-pitched laugh. He was alone. Lance made his way out of the bathroom and into the school hallway. There was no one there, either. Lance’s feet echoed as he hesitantly made his way to his locker. No one was there either. It seemed that Lance was alone. He had escaped the trio.

Paranoia creeped up his back, prickling at the back of his neck and causing him to whip around at any hint of a sound. Lance’s veins hummed with fear and his fingers shook as they turned the dial of his lock. He nearly dropped it once the thing came undone, too panicked and freaked out to think straight. He knew they were probably gone and he was probably fine, but something still bit at the back of his mind, scratching away incessantly. What if they were still there, lying in wait? There was nothing to say they weren’t just biding their time until there was no one around to be a witness for what they had planned for Lance.

But nothing happened. Lance opened his locker, grabbed his jacket, got himself settled in, and left the school finally. He would be late this time for sure, but hopefully, his mother wouldn’t mind that much. Lance shielded himself from the wind as he wandered the trail alone.

Lance’s mind trailed through the events of the day. He had narrowly escaped being trapped and cornered by Rolo, Nyma, and Beezer again, but at least it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Lance had had enough of hiding though.

Glancing around at his surroundings, Lance found solace in the lonely winter path that lead away from the school to the apartment complex. Just like the night before, it was dark and the snow was coming down heavily. Whenever winter hit, Lance always felt as though the snow never stopped coming, just a constant drop that never ended. Obviously, summer would come around eventually and Lance wouldn’t need to bundle up so much, but it never felt like that when Lance was practically being buried alive under the snowflakes on his way home.

The dark woods around him always seemed alive at night. In the day, it was just another set of trees in close proximity, but at night, Lance could almost see them breathing and hear them whispering. Lance often felt like, if he wasn’t careful, the woods would swallow him whole. But the thing was that it wasn’t a threatening feeling, and it didn’t scare him. It was almost as if they were promising him the escape that he wanted. If he wandered into the woods, he could just get lost and never have to deal with anything at school ever again. Lance always felt like he was being watched when he passed through the woods, but he never bothered to hurry his steps or to glance around.

As Lance came up to his apartment building, he pulled his ungloved hand from his pocket to press the code into the keypad. The door beeped and the light at the top flashed green. A click echoed in the empty air and Lance pulled his door open, breathing out a sigh at the feeling of warmth on his freezing skin. Then, after stomping his boots out on the mat, he made his way to the stairs.

Lance listened to the clanking noises the staircase made as he lugged himself up to the third floor. He felt weary and tired, his body dragging him down. The backpack he held felt like it was loaded with bricks, pressing on his shoulders and spine. Lance had to wonder if he was really so weak that a textbook and a notebook were causing him physical exhaustion. It had been a long day though, and all Lance wanted was to go back to sleep. His stomach rumbled once, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten that day. Sometimes, Lance would just forgo a meal if it meant that he wouldn’t have to pass Rolo, Nyma, and Beezer on his way to the lunch line. He usually just packed his own lunch, or asked his mother to do so for him, but today wasn’t one of those days. Lance would have to grab something to eat before heading off to his room.

Pulling his key from his pocket, Lance stopped in front of his apartment door and unlocked it. He was barely through the door before he was being greeted.

“Lance!” his mother cried as Lance stepped into the apartment. _“¡Gracias a Dios!_ Where have you been?!”

Lance flinched at her tone of voice, looking up to meet his mother’s concerned stare. “I… I just stayed after school to finish some homework. I’m sorry, _mamá.”_ Lance felt terrible lying to his mother like that, but he couldn’t tell her the truth. That would just make everything worse. 

His mother breathed out shakily. “Why didn’t you call? I was so worried! _Corazoncito,”_ she wailed, grabbing Lance’s shoulders and yanking him into a tight hug. The air was forced out of his chest, but he couldn’t be bothered when his mother was teary-eyed and holding him like her life depended on it.

 _“Mamá, esta bien._ I’m alright,” Lance soothed. He patted her on the back as she held him, feeling guilty the entire time. He was the reason that his mother was distressed like that.

“Have you seen the news?” she suddenly asked, pulling back a little bit to stare Lance in the eyes again.

Lance blinked, confused. “The news?” he asked for clarification.

“The poor girl who was found in the woods,” she explained, a disgusted look crossed her face. “What kind of monster would do that to someone? It was just up the road from the apartment! That creep is still out there, and you weren’t home on time, I thought… Oh, _mijito,_ I thought something had happened to you!” she sobbed again. Once more, she pulled Lance into a hug.

Lance hadn’t even thought about that. He knew that there was a killer in the town, but he hadn’t even thought about his own safety or what his family would think if he had showed up late. Lance hugged his mother back, a little bit tighter than normal just to reassure her. What if Lance had been the next victim? What would his mother do then? Lance couldn’t even begin to imagine doing that to his mother and Blue.

“I promise I’ll call next time,” Lance muttered, remorseful.

His mother nodded in understanding before pulling away from the hug again. “I just want you to be safe,” she replied, sniffling. She straightened out Lance’s collar, smoothing down his coat. Lance smiled gently at her as she busied herself with fixing his windblown hair.

“Where’s Blue?” he asked softly.

Right at that moment, as if summoned by her name, the Russian Blue cat trotted over to the front door. Her tail stood up straight in the air, a flag to signal her arrival. Her ears twitched and she purred as she hurried along. With each step she took, her nails clacked against the wooden flooring, making Lance smile a little bit brighter.

“There she is!” he called. Lance dropped down into a crouch to pet her face and scratch behind her ears. She purred happily, loving all the attention that Lance gave her. Attention which she had been deprived of for the entire day while Lance was at school and his mother was at work. She meowed softly. “I missed you so much! My beautiful princess! Ahh! Look at you, my tiny babe, I love you!” he cooed, rubbing her smiling cheeks. His mood instantly felt lighter.

“She missed you too!” his mother reprimanded. “This is why you should call, so you don’t worry me or the kit!”

Lance let out a laugh. “I know, I will, promise.”

With a sad smile, she glanced back up from Blue to meet her son’s eyes. “You must be starving, _mi hijo,_ I’ll get you some dinner.”

Lance returned the smile, already feeling warm and safe. “Okay. Thanks, _mamá.”_

Although his days were long, he was always happy to come home to his mother and kitty. He loved them dearly, but he still looked forward to the day he could get out of the town and never look back. Lance promised himself that he would call his family as often as he could, and if they wanted, they could come visit him, but Lance just couldn’t stay in the small town any longer. It was starting to weigh on him to be there. Lance was planning on leaving the second he graduated high school, but some days, he wondered if he would be able to make it that long. He hoped his family would understand when he eventually did take the chance to go.

Lance followed his mother into the kitchen as she went about heating up the leftovers from dinner. He glanced out the window, seeing that it was already dark outside. Lance hadn’t even realized how late it had gotten while he was waiting in the bathroom stall. He sighed. Then, with a heavy heart, Lance sat himself down at the table and waited. Lance had gotten used to waiting for things in his life.

Once the hamburger meal was heated up for him, Lance immediately scarfed it down. He tried his best not to let his mother see how hungry he was or how much of a hurry he was in, but he really did just want to get to his room. Part of Lance wanted to leap into bed and sleep for the next thirty years, but another part of Lance wanted to finally read the newspaper report on the woman who had been murdered in the woods. He heard everyone talking about it, but truthfully, Lance hadn’t been paying much attention, so he really didn’t know what was going on. Lance also still had to practice with his knife a little more.

The thought of his knife reminded him that he would have to catch Keith again sometime. Maybe Lance would get to see Keith’s plants. He seemed to have a lot. Lance couldn’t see anything in Keith’s window since they were right next door, but he always figured he would be able to hear something. The walls were very thin in the apartment, which was part of why Lance was so upset at the idea of someone moving in next door to them, since his bedroom wall boarded the apartment that had been empty for so long. Except, Keith didn’t make any noise. Lance never heard Keith moving things, talking to people, watching television, anything. Keith was an extremely silent neighbour. Lance was thankful for the peace, but it also unnerved him. Maybe Keith was just quiet, but he seemed almost too quiet. Lance hadn’t even heard him when he had wandered up behind Lance outside. It was strange, but it was also intriguing.

Lance quickly cleaned up the rest of his plate, then took it to the sink to rinse it off and place it in the dishwasher. He called to his mother to thank her for the food, then he slipped through the kitchen. On his way by, Lance noticed the newspaper that had been left there. He grabbed that quickly, then fled to his room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Unraveling the paper, Lance read the top headline. He figured that a murder in a sleepy little town such as his own would make front page news, and he was right to think that. The title read; _WOMAN FOUND DRAINED OF BLOOD._ Lance scanned the article, getting the gist of what happened. A lady who was walking her dog found a woman strung up from a tree. Investigators were saying that her throat was slit and she was left to bleed out into a gas container.

Lance cringed. That was brutal. He couldn’t stop reading though, because for as gruesome as it was, Lance had always had a fascination with the macabre. Where most people were worried the killer would get them next, Lance was curious about all the gritty details. That didn’t mean that Lance wanted to be next, and it didn’t mean that he was out there looking to get caught, but the thought that there was a killer out there who exsanguinated a woman was really interesting, in a dark and gross way.

He kept reading. They had determined that they woman didn’t die from the cut, but that she had been asphyxiated first. They didn’t have any leads. There were a few comments from locals saying that they couldn’t believe that someone would do such a thing, and definitely not in such a small town where everyone knew everyone else. Lance’s mind whirred, imagining the creepiest people he had come across in his time in the town, which one would be the most likely candidate to commit a murder like this. His first thought was Rolo, or maybe that weird guy from the café, it might have even been someone from his own apartment building. It was probably the weird lady who lived above him, she was always glaring at Lance for no reason.

Lance spent some more time thinking about it as he got ready for bed, picturing all the different people it could be. He wondered if someone else would be killed too, or if it was a one-time thing. Maybe the killer hadn’t expected to be caught and had just decided to pack up and leave.

By the time Lance crawled into bed, his mind was already getting tired. Although he was buzzing with ideas, he was still exhausted. Lance shimmied under the covers and rolled over so he was facing the wall. His fingers reached out to brush the chipped wallpaper, picking at it even more. There was still silence on the other side. Lance couldn’t help but feel almost disappointed. He was hoping that he might be able to hear Keith this time.

 _Maybe Keith did it,_ his mind supplied. Lance squinted at the wall. Somehow, the thought didn’t surprise him. It would make sense, especially since Keith had just shown up to the town and he was clearly skilled with a knife. Maybe Keith had killed that woman. Lance tossed the idea around in his mind. Keith couldn’t have killed her though, he had been outside the night of the murder talking to Lance. Well, he could have gone out before he had spoken to Lance, but somehow, it seemed almost unlikely. Lance couldn’t be sure.

Whether Keith did or didn’t kill that woman, Lance was still going to ask him for fighting tips.


	4. Cherry Red

Lotor leaned back in his chair, enjoying the nighttime view of the winter scenery outside the café window. He wasn’t a fan of the cold, but he loved the look of it. Lotor was more about the winter aesthetic than anything else. After taking a long sip of his coffee, Lotor released a content sigh. His long, white hair hung over the back of his chair.

At the table in front of him, Zethrid was engaging everyone in a tale about something amusing that her dog had done the night before. Lotor wasn’t paying any particular attention to the story, but he laughed along at the appropriate moments and smiled through the rest of it. Her hair was wild and splayed out as usual, a result of her never remembering to brush it. She had dyed it a dark blue colour which she was very proud of, yet she still never took much care of it. Her intense, hazel eyes glimmered as she explained the events. Whenever she spoke about her dog, she always looked younger, in Lotor’s opinion, even with the scar across her face.

Narti was sat next to Zethrid, listening intently to Zethrid’s story as well. Every now and again she would sign something to her, asking a question or making a comment. Narti wore her black hijab today, which she always said was her favourite. She and Zethrid were the only ones in the group with pets, Narti’s being a cat. Sometimes, she would make jokes that hers was a service cat, but it was well known in the group that Narti never felt the need for any sort of service animal. Even though she couldn’t see or speak, she still got around the world with ease, in her own way.

Beside Lotor, Acxa was equally as interested as Narti, leaning across the table on her elbows and sipping her drink periodically. Her hand would sometimes come up to fiddle with the black accessories she wore in her purple hair. Although she had an intense gaze, she was really quite nice and quiet as she listened to Zethrid. A small smile graced her face, accentuating the purple tint of her lips. She was a fan of purple, that much was clear just from a glance, but even with her more out-there fashion choices, she still managed to pull the look off every time.

Ezor, who had a chair pulled up from another table so she could sit at the booth with the others, laughed loudly and wholeheartedly, invested in Zethrid’s story the most. Her pink dyed ponytail whipped back behind her every time she laughed. She had always been the most energetic and outgoing of the group, which was made even more obvious by the mixed and matched colours she chose to wear. Ezor was a huge fan of makeup, always colouring her eyelids with the craziest combinations. She took great pride in the looks she created.

All in all, they were quite the lively bunch. Their time was mostly spent at the café in the afternoons, just eating breakfast and updating each other on their lives.

“Can’t let that dog go anywhere,” Zethrid laughed.

“That’s hilarious!” Ezor hooted. She laughed again.

Axca hummed, “You should be careful, especially with that whole thing last night.”

“Last night?” Zethrid raised an eyebrow.

“Oh!” Ezor exclaimed. “You mean that lady who got slashed? Yeah, Zethy, you should be careful, you could be next.” A sly look overcame her face as she leaned forward and wiggled her fingers teasingly at Zethrid.

Narti swatted her in the arm before she could get too into it. _“That’s not funny,”_ she signed.

“Ooh, are you _scared?”_ Ezor teased some more.

“Are you saying you’re _not_ scared,” Acxa fired back.

Ezor immediately leaned back in her chair and rested an elbow over the back of it as she stared at Acxa, unimpressed. “Me? Scared? Please, don’t make me laugh!”

_“You should be. You’re just the killer’s type,”_ Narti reminded her.

Zethrid piped up then, “If any killers try to slit my throat, you can bet they won’t get very far. I’ll sock ‘em right in the snotter! They won’t even know what hit them.” There was a determined look in her eye, as though she had made that her personal mission.

“Zethy isn’t afraid of killers, killers are afraid of Zethy,” Ezor giggled.

Lotor, having not said anything up to this point, zoned out on the conversation a little bit as he let his eyes wander. They trailed over the familiar setting of the bar where a couple regulars were sat, drinking their coffee. The place wasn’t bustling, but it wasn’t quiet either. Lotor was positive that the cook and the waiters were busy enough, all with enough to do, but it wasn’t exactly the busiest day that Lotor had seen. He glanced at everybody around the café that he knew, smiling gently into his coffee cup.

As he filtered through the list of people he knew, he suddenly realized that there was one guy who he had never seen before in his life. It was a guy with long, black hair covering a good portion of his forehead and eyes as he read the newspaper in front of him. There was an angry set to his lips and his eyebrows as he read. The crimson red leather jacket he had on fit him snuggly, although it didn’t seem very warm to Lotor. It wasn’t the only odd thing about his attire though. The mysterious guy also had on fingerless gloves. In the middle of winter, Lotor couldn’t picture someone wearing anything but actual gloves, with fingers. He wore black boots, but they were clearly not made for winter either, no matter how much snow they were covered in that told him otherwise.

Lotor couldn’t, for the life of him, put a name to the face he was staring at.

“Lotor?” Acxa called.

Lotor was suddenly brought back to the present, turning to see all his friends staring at him. Even Narti had turned in the general direction of him. “Sorry?” he replied.

“I asked if you were okay; you were zoning out,” Ezor hesitantly asked, unsure whether or not Lotor really was alright.

Smiling, Lotor assured her, “Yes, I am just fine, thank you.” He turned his attention back to the guy who was sitting alone in the café. “Have any of you ever seen that man before?” he subtly asked, pointing a subtle finger in his direction.

Everyone followed his gaze, staring at the man with confused and squinting expressions. Narti just went back to her drink and waited for the others to determine who the guy was.

“Uh…” Ezor drew out. “Nope, never,” she decided.

“Can’t say I have either,” Zethrid agreed.

Acxa tilted her head a bit. “I think I’ve seen him before,” she muttered. Then her eyes widened and she snapped her fingers in remembrance. “That’s right, he moved into my apartment building the other day, room 33. It’s been empty awhile now actually. He was alone, too.”

_“What does he look like?”_ Narti asked.

“A real piece of work,” Zethrid muttered.

Ezor grinned brightly, shifting her gaze between the others and the man at the table. “We should invite him over!”

“Better than sitting alone.” Acxa nodded.

Lotor glanced at the man once more. He had finished his drink by now, waving down a waiter who had been wandering past his table. “I’ll go ask him,” Lotor suggested.

He stood from his seat and strode over to sit at the other chair across from the other man. The guy didn’t even look up as Lotor settled in. Lotor waited a moment, thinking that maybe he would finish what he was doing and then address Lotor, but it didn’t happen, he continued to shuffle the papers around and look pointedly not at Lotor.

“Hello,” Lotor greeted with a smile.

The guy continued to ignore him, paying the small bill for his single glass of water.

“You’re at the Lion Castle apartment building, yes?” he tried instead.

Still, he got no response. The man just left a single bill on the table and packed up the newspaper.

“You don’t have to sit here alone,” Lotor offered. “Come sit with us, have a laugh!” Lotor gave a welcoming grin.

“Not interested,” the man dismissed. Leaving no extra room to be persuaded otherwise, he stood from his chair and spun around, heading toward the door with powerful strides. The door jangled as he opened it. Without even a glance back, he strode out into the snow.

Lotor watched him go, stunned into silence by how flippantly he had been rejected. He slowly looked back over at his friends, who had seen the entire thing transpire. Acxa was glaring at the door where the man had previously been. Ezor had her mouth hanging open in shock, just as disbelieving as Lotor was. Zethrid stared between Lotor and the door, unsure of what she was supposed to be feeling in that moment. Narti, who had heard the man’s rude departure rather than seen it, frowned at the table, displeased.

Lotor didn’t even know what to make of the entire situation. Gradually, Lotor got up from his chair and made his way back over to his group of friends. “I suppose he didn’t want to sit with us then,” Lotor awkwardly laughed. That was quite the understatement, but at least now, Lotor knew to leave that guy alone.

 

◊ ◊ ◊

 

It had been a few days since Lance had first met Keith and he hadn’t had the opportunity to speak with him again. Lance had known it before since he hardly made any noise in his own apartment, but Keith was an elusive creature. Keith was hardly ever home, unless he was just always home and never left. Or maybe he always left at the moments when Lance wasn’t paying attention. Whatever the case, no matter how many times Lance waited and watched out the window, or listened in at his wall, or stood outside keeping himself busy in hopes that Keith would show up, he never did. Lance was beginning to lose hope that Keith would ever show up. In fact, Lance was starting believe that there never had been a Keith and he had just hallucinated the entire thing. Lance was proven wrong, however.

One day, while Lance was outside, sitting on the snow-covered playground with a Rubik’s cube in his hands, Lance heard the tell-tale creaking of the playground behind him as someone approached. Lance didn’t turn, mostly out of fear that if he moved too quickly, he would scare the person away. He couldn’t be sure it was Keith until he turned around to check, but something told him it was. Lance continued to flick his cube around, attempting to collect all the blue squares on one side.

The playground squeaked again. Lance’s hands slowed and his eyes shifted to the side in an attempt to get a glimpse of the person. He could feel eyes on his and he could sense the presence of another person leaning over his shoulder from the platform above him. Lance’s heart sped up nervously and his hands shook a little, although that could have been from the cold. His back crawled with the urge to face the person, but he remained with his eyes on his cube.

“Hey, you’re back. I was beginning to wonder if you were just a figment of my imagination or something,” Lance whispered. It sounded much louder when the only noise was the clicking of the cube in his hands.

Rather than a proper response, Lance heard a grunt. Lance huffed a laugh. He could tell it was a salutation, but it was still amusing. “What is that?” a gruff voice asked. Lance could confirm now that it was actually Keith, but if anyone asked, he would deny that his heart leaped and he felt a surge of happiness.

“A Rubik’s cube,” Lance informed. He still didn’t attempt to turn around. Keith, with his intangibility, still felt like nothing more than a figment of Lance’s imagination. If he turned around, Keith might disappear. Perhaps he’d immediately skitter away, like a stray cat. Lance couldn’t be sure. He kept his eyes down.

“A, what?” Keith inquired incredulously. Lance could hear the utter confusion in his tone.

Lance chuckled, “You’ve never heard of a Rubik’s cube? Do you live under a rock?”

Keith moved back a little bit; Lance could feel it. There was a snooty huff as he moved away. Lance couldn’t help when he snorted at the way Keith got defensive about not knowing what a Rubik’s cube was. “Well, what is it? Is it a puzzle game?” he bitterly questioned.

“Yeah, it is.” Hesitantly, Lance pivoted his upper body and held the cube out towards Keith, but he didn’t dare raise his eyes to meet Keith’s gaze just yet. It was too intense. He would get washed away in the force of it, he knew. “You wanna try it?”

Lance’s eyes trailed through the snow of the playground with trepidation. He saw Keith’s black combat boots first, covered in snow and scuff marks. Just as before, Lance couldn’t imagine that they were warm at all. His gaze continued up, along Keith’s legs. The guy was wearing skin-tight black athletic pants, and damn if he didn’t look good in those. Lance forced his eyes to trail up farther as fast as he could, hoping Keith wouldn’t notice the reddening over his cheeks. Probably the most baffling part of Keith’s outfit was the sweatshirt that adorned his chest. It was slightly too big, showing off a bit more of his collarbones than the average shirt would, but it still looked nice on him, especially with the dark argyle pattern. Still, Lance was amazed how Keith wasn’t cold. He didn’t let himself dwell on it for too long, especially with the inquisitive face that Keith was making at him. It was very distracting.

“You can borrow it, if you want,” Lance offered timidly. “Just… return it tomorrow.” Lance nervously scratched at his cheek, watching Keith stare at the cube, perplexed.

For a moment, Lance was sure that Keith was going to take the cube, but as he stared at it, leaning forward with interest, he suddenly pulled back. “I might not be here tomorrow…” Keith answered cautiously.

Lance shuffled around on his seat so he could better face Keith. His hand was still outstretched with the cube in his hold. “You could always… y’know… give me your phone number. Then you could just text me whenever you are around,” Lance reasoned. He shrugged, as though his heart wasn’t beating rapidly in his chest with a strange and confused form of nerves. Had he just subtly asked for Keith’s number? Lance would admit that he found Keith easy on the eyes and horribly cool, but it wasn’t like that, surely. His face was turning redder by the second.

Keith didn’t seem to read the conversation as awkwardly as Lance did. “No,” he immediately responded, no hesitation.

Lance’s confidence withered instantly and he could feel his heart stutter to a stop within his chest. A smile plastered itself across his face, fake and unsteady. Lance tried his best not to let the hurt he was feeling show on his face. “That’s okay then,” he mumbled. Of course. What else had Lance been expecting? That Keith would just give him his number? Ridiculous. Someone like Lance? No way. Shaking, Lance retracted his hand back towards his body, attempting to curl up and out of Keith’s sight.

Before he could completely fold into himself like an origami swan of shame, a pair of hands clamped around the cube in his grip, as well as his entire actual hand. “I don’t–” Keith cut himself off, staring awkwardly at Lance for a moment with wide eyes, then back down to their hands. “I don’t have a phone…” he told Lance.

Lance just stared at him. Okay. So, that hadn’t been a rejection, necessarily. Keith just didn’t have a phone. That was weird enough on its own, but seeing as Keith was a bit of an oddball guy, he didn’t let himself get too hung up on that part. Lance gave Keith another smile, this time genuine and relieved. “That’s fine,” he conceded. “You can still take it with you. Just return it whenever you get the chance.”

Keith studied their hands again, the cube caught in the middle. Then, with tentative movements, Keith accepted the cube from Lance. He still kept one hand connected to Lance’s absently as he inspected the cube, letting go after a moment. Lance looked down at his hand. Keith’s hands were so cold, but he couldn’t help how warm they made him feel. Lance really needed to calm down there, he had just met Keith, and even if he was always one to fall in love easily, he still didn’t need to be weird about it.

Lance then made the mistake of looking up at Keith as he stared intensely at the cube, fumbling it around in his hands. “How does it work?” he muttered, confused and a little disgruntled.

With a small laugh, Lance took the cube back from Keith’s hands. “You just turn it, like this.” He demonstrated how each side could move, shifting the colours around. “The point is to get each side to be a solid colour.” Lance expertly moved the cube sides around until all the blue ones were on the same side. “See? Then you just need to do the same for all the other sides.” Lance had never solved a Rubik’s cube. He had gotten close before, at least, he thought it was close, but the fully solved cube was always just out of reach to him.

Keith slipped off his spot at the top of the playground platform, gently sliding down to sit next to Lance. His clothes were surely wet from how he was sitting in the snow, but the way he settled in next to Lance brought a heat to his cheeks. He took the cube back from Lance and flipped one of the sides over slowly, watching closely as the colours lined up differently. An intrigued hum escaped Keith and he nodded to himself. As he shifted the cube’s faces around, he became more confident in his movements.

“So…” Lance awkwardly began. “You’re pretty good with a knife, huh?”

Keith paused in his turning to glance over at Lance out of the corner of his eyes. They maintained eye contact as Keith seemed to be determining what Lance was really asking. Lance wasn’t sure if Keith had found what he was searching for, but he resumed flipping the cube, taking his eyes back. “I can hold my own,” Keith affirmed.

“Right,” Lance answered nervously. “Do you think… you could... teach me how to use one…? Maybe…?” He added a toothy grin at the end, hoping that would persuade Keith.

The silence dragged on for a second too long. “You want self defense training?” Keith clarified, resting the cube in his lap as he decided the conversation was going need more of his attention.

Lance laughed a little bit, although Keith’s expression stayed the same neutral stare it always seemed to be. “Yeah, I guess that’s what I’m asking…” he confirmed.

Keith thought about it, tilting his head and examining Lance from head to toe. It roused a blush from Lance’s cheeks. “What’re you defending yourself from?” he asked softly.

Lance hadn’t been expecting that question, even though it was a logical next step in the conversation. He met Keith’s eye, then averted his gaze once more. Keith wasn’t in the wrong for asking that question, but Lance didn’t exactly feel like answering it honestly. As few people who knew Lance was being antagonized, the better. “I…” he breathed, “…don’t get along well with the kids at school…”

Keith hummed in understanding. “Rolo,” he said, recalling their conversation from last time. “People can be cruel.” Keith stared deeply into Lance’s eyes, a flash of some old scar being picked and prodded at, a memory that Keith would clearly rather forget. The look went as quickly as it had come. “I’ll help you,” he decided, an air of determination colouring his tone.

“Really?” Lance brightened instantly. “Thank you! Don’t worry, I’m a fast learner, I’ll be able to do that fancy little knife throwing move you did earlier in no time!” Lance exclaimed, letting a bit of his usual cockiness slip in as he spoke. He smirked cheekily at Keith.

A genuine smile graced Keith’s face, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards even as he struggled to keep it down. Huffing a laugh, completely against his will, Keith’s gaze softened a little bit. “Yeah, yeah, we’ll see. If you can’t do it by the time I solve this puzzle, I won’t be impressed,” he teased, nudging him in the shoulder with a friendly demeanor about him.

Lance snorted, “Dude, that is not a bet you want to make, because believe me when I say you’ll lose.”

Keith furrowed his eyebrows, but his smirk spread wider. “Sounds like a challenge to me,” he dared.

“Well, if it walks like a challenge and it talks like a challenge,” Lance grinned, cleverly adjusting the phrase.

“You’re going to regret that, Lance,” Keith said lowly, watching Lance through his eyelashes as he returned to the cube. “Carry your knife with you next time,” Keith instructed. He flicked the cube rapidly, messing up the blue pattern that Lance had made. Trying to determine Keith’s reasoning behind the moves was impossible, Lance found, and he wondered how close Keith would be able to get.

“You got it,” Lance agreed. “I can’t wait to see the look on your face when I beat you.”

Keith snickered, and the sound filled Lance with warmth. This wasn’t so bad. Keith really wasn’t such a strange guy when Lance got the chance to really talk to him, even if it was just joshing. Maybe Lance’s heart was stuttering a little bit more than the normal person’s while making a friend, but he chose to look past that in favour of savouring the feeling of hanging out with someone, especially someone like Keith.

A thought occurred to Lance as he watched Keith trying to solve the cube while reflecting on the warmth Keith instilled.

“Aren’t you cold?” Lance blurted out. He squinted in confusion at the rolled-up sweatshirt sleeves.

Keith looked at Lance, startled by the question which he wasn’t expecting. He blinked once. “No…?” The way he said it was confused, as though he didn’t understand why Lance would even ask that.

“It’s thirty-two below, how aren’t you cold?” Lance asked incredulously. He had been expecting Keith to admit that he was cold but he just didn’t like winter jackets and boots or something stupid like that, but he hadn’t expected Keith to actually be fine in the cold, as though it wasn’t even cold at all. Lance needed to wear four different layers just to feel some semblance of warmth. Then here Keith was, just hanging out in a sweatshirt with the sleeves rolled up and the neck big enough to fit an entire shoulder through if Keith so much as shrugged a little too hard, acting like it was the middle of summer. “Seriously, you have to have hypothermia,” Lance insisted, becoming genuinely concerned.

“I just don’t get cold,” Keith defensively claimed.

Lance placed a gentle hand on Keith’s arm, causing the other man to flinch slightly and stare at Lance with surprise. Keith’s skin was like ice. Literal ice. Lance had actually opened freezers that were warmer than Keith. With a gasp, Lance yanked his hand away. “Christ, Keith, you’re like a corpse!” he cried. Lance instantly began pulling the sleeves of Keith’s sweater back down over his arms.

“Lance!” Keith snapped, watching in bewilderment, but letting Lance do whatever it was he was doing nonetheless.

“Do you have some kind of nerve damage? You have to be freezing!” Lance protested. He was about to start pulling his own coat off to offer to Keith before the guy turned into an ice cube, but Keith stopped him before he could.

A strong hand clasped his wrist, drawing his attention in. “Lance,” Keith called again, even more forceful, “I’m fine, okay?”

Lance stared at him blankly. “Okay…” he relented.

Keith smiled and let go of his arm, much to Lance’s displeasure. Before he could be too upset about the absence, however, a pair of knuckles were softly pressing into his cheek. They, too, were arctic. Lance wondered if Keith’s bones were frozen too. If Keith bumped his hand against the playground too hard, would his fingers snap off? As Lance mused, staring down at Keith with his outstretched hand and his smug expression, he began to realize something. Keith’s hand was warm. Not just a lukewarm, but actually hot, as though he had bundled himself in a bunch of blankets without Lance noticing. Lance’s eyes widened and one of his hands came up to feel Keith’s skin for himself. It was warm, that wasn’t a trick.

“What the actual fuck, Keith?” Lance choked out. He stared at Keith with wide, baffled eyes.

Keith didn’t even explain, he just laughed at Lance’s reaction and whispered out, “I don’t get cold.”

Lance sat there, staring at Keith, studying Keith. The guy pulled his hand back from Lance’s cheek and continued to fiddle with the cube in his hands. There was a small smile on his face that made him appear like a simple boy with a Rubik’s cube instead of the complete enigma he was actually turning out to be. Lance couldn’t stop the intense feeling that drew him to follow Keith, not if he even tried, which he wasn’t. Keith was just… something else. Lance didn’t even have words to describe what Keith was, but he knew it wasn’t bad.

Suddenly, the miasma of Lance’s perplexed thoughts was broken through by a loud grumbling noise. His eyebrows raised. Keith’s eyebrows copied as he curled inward, subtly clutching his stomach.

“Are you okay…?” Lance asked, concerned.

A quick nod was the only response he received. Lips clenched so tightly together they turned white, Keith looked to be in physical pain. Sweat broke out on his forehead and his eyes shifted around awkwardly. Up to Lance’s eyes, down to his neck, across the yard, down at his hands, back at Lance’s neck, Keith’s eyes frantically buzzed before his eyes widened in panic and he clamped them shut. He ducked his head as his stomach growled again.

“Holy shit, oh my god,” Lance breathed. “Keith, what do I do? Fuck, how do I help?” he asked, panicked. “I’ll– I’ll call an ambulance!” Lance immediately began patting his coat down, hoping to find his phone somewhere in the mess of layers.

_“No!”_ Keith shouted. Without uncurling himself, Keith shoved a hand into Lance’s arm, nearly tumbling him off the playground entirely. The push was desperate, only furthering Lance’s panic. “No, I’m okay, Lance. Just go back inside,” Keith begged. He choked on the words. Lance reached his hands out helplessly at the tone of his voice, wanting to do something, but not knowing what.

Like a newborn deer walking for the first time, Keith pushed himself up from the playground and took a couple staggering steps. Then, Keith swallowed, heaved, and straightened up entirely, no longer visibly in pain. His eyes were still shut, but he opened them slowly after a moment, a distant sadness in his gaze.

“Keith…” Lance breathed, not really knowing what else he could say.

“I just need my medicine.” Keith cut him off. He turned to Lance and smiled, the same melancholy tainting his expression’s edges. “Goodnight, Lance.” And with that, Keith wandered off in the opposite direction of the apartment building, still in his thin sweatshirt and still holding Lance’s Rubik’s cube.

Lance watched him go, standing motionless and shaky, until finally, the figure disappeared out of sight. The entire situation had shaken him up pretty badly, so, he simply turned around and headed back inside like Keith had asked of him. Every time Lance thought he might have been getting closer to understanding Keith, the guy turned around and did that sort of thing and scared the shit out of Lance. All in all, Keith seemed to be several shades of not alright and Lance couldn’t comprehend any of them, yet he was determined to. He would have to sleep it off.


	5. Cardinal Red

Zethrid sat on her balcony in a frozen chair that seemed to be sticking to her ass the longer she stayed where she was. Somehow, even when the temperature remained the same on her thermostat, she could swear it was getting colder. Logically, she knew it wasn’t, but it sure seemed like it was.

With a heavy sigh, Zethrid pulled her package of cigarettes from her pocket and yanked one out blindly. It had been a long day, she deserved this. Her job wasn’t something she hated, in fact, she looked forward to going into work everyday, it just weighed on her a little bit sometimes, dragging her down and exhausting her. Not all the time, but on occasion. She pulled a lighter out of her other pocket and flicked it a couple times. It didn’t light at first and she tried again, frowning when her numb fingers couldn’t get the spark wheel to turn enough. Finally, after another two tries, she finally got it, leaning back in her seat as the cigarette took the flame.

In an instant, she felt relaxed, unwinding from all the stress of the day. Zethrid puffed outwards, letting the smoke dissipate into the cold air around her. It couldn’t be said what was smoke and what was her breathing, but Zethrid couldn’t bring herself to care much. Her eyes slowly shut, tugged down by the force of the day.

Something bumped her knee then and she lazily peeked open an eye to see what it was. A giant mastiff was seated next to her, watching as she puffed another cloud of smoke into the air.

“Hey, General,” Zethrid greeted, reaching a hand out to ruffle the fur on the dog’s head.

He woofed in response, a soft noise of acknowledgement. Zethrid snickered and leaned back up in her chair. She was careful to keep her cigarette away from the dog, not wanting him to get any smoke in his face at all.

“Do you want a treat?” she asked, enticing her friend.

General made a rumbling noise in the back of his throat and shuffled around. He waved his head through the air, searching for the treats that he had been promised. His tail wagged behind him, knocking against the cramped railing of the balcony.

Zethrid chuckled at her dog’s enthusiasm. “After this smoke, okay?” she promised, tapping her cigarette on the side of the ash tray sitting on the table next to her, effectively dropping some of the extra ash.

Once more, General barked in agreement.

“Goodbye, Narti! Have a nice night! I’ll see you tomorrow!”

Zethrid glanced over the railing to see as Ezor and Narti wandered by, splitting ways at the bridge that was below Zethrid’s house. Releasing another puff into the air, Zethrid moved closer to the edge of her chair to watch as they waved goodbye to each other. Ezor glanced up to the balcony where Zethrid was, waving to her as well.

“Hey, Zethy! And you too General!” she called sweetly, her ponytail bouncing as she jogged along. Ezor always seemed to be in a rush somewhere, but that was just her nature.

“Night, Ezor,” Zethrid called. “Night, Narti.”

Zethrid watched as Ezor smiled and disappeared around the corner, out of sight. Her eyes flicked to Narti, who was heading in the opposite direction of Zethrid’s house and under the bridge, but her hand was extended into the air to signal that she had heard Zethrid’s well-wishing. Zethrid couldn’t help the smirk that formed along her lips. She turned back to General. He hadn’t moved from his spot, still waiting for the treat.

“How about we get those treats now?” Zethrid whispered over to him, then she winked.

As she was about to drop her still-lit cigarette into the tray and step back inside to get some dog bones for her furry friend, she happened to notice something out of the corner of her eyes. At first, Zethrid had automatically assumed it was a bird or something, but she quickly realized that it was far too big to be a bird. She turned back to the balcony, leaning over to see as best she could. Her eyes widened and she gasped before she was able to stop herself. She wanted to scream, but no noise came out. General nudged her knee again, confused at her reaction, but she just ignored him, grappling blindly for her phone to call the police. Her hands shook and she began racing back into the house and to the front door.

What she had witnessed just on the other side of the bridge was one of the most horrific things that she had ever seen, and she was sure she would never see anything like it again. It was something that would haunt her for years to come, but she didn’t know that yet. Zethrid, for the fighter that she was, had never been sent into shock before, always quick on her feet and calm in a battle, but this was different. She fumbled with the door, panicking to open it and get outside, but it was just not cooperating with her.

Outside, just over the top of the bridge, Zethrid barely had a view of a figure leaning over something in the snow. They had moved back and forth, their chest heaving and their head bobbing. Zethrid wasn’t even sure what she was looking at to begin with, especially since it was so dark and her view was so cut off. Then, as she had leaned over the railing to get a better view, squinting as well as she could, it all clicked into place.

Narti. That was Narti. The figure wasn’t Narti, she had no idea who that could be, but the thing the person was straddling was Narti. Zethrid could just barely make out the black hijab, half ripped off and the darker skin of her friend as she lay on the ground, motionless. Normally, if someone were being attacked, they would scream, but Narti couldn’t, and she wouldn’t have even seen it coming. There was no doubt about it, that was Narti, lifeless in the snow under the figure. Zethrid couldn’t even see what they were doing to her or what they looked like, but she was dead, that much was almost certain in Zethrid’s mind. That was the killer, the one they had been talking about just the day before, the one that had strung up a woman and bled her out, Zethrid was sure.

“Fuck! C’mon!” Zethrid screamed at the doorknob.

Finally, she was able to open it. She belted down the stairs, knowing that every second she wasn’t with Narti, that killer was and Narti’s chance of living lessened. Her legs pushed on and she shoved her way out the front door to her house. Zethrid didn’t even spare a second with her shoes, immediately rushing into the snow with just her socks on. The cold bit at her toes, freezing every inch of her feet, but she paid it no mind. Her heart thundered as she skidded along down the slippery slope beneath the bridge and onto the even part of the trail.

She stopped. She stood there, her eyes opened all the way and her breath coming out in the puffs. She whipped around, checking every possible escape route from the area. She couldn’t see anything in the distance, not even a set of footprints in the snow leading away from the scene. Except, there wasn’t a scene. There was no Narti, there was no killer, there was no blood, there was nothing.

Zethrid continued to stand there, confused and panicked. She was so incredibly lost. She needed to call the others. Zethrid slowly wandered back to her house in a daze, her skin getting colder the longer she was out.

 

◊ ◊ ◊

 

“Right here! I saw it happen!” Zethrid yelled, pointing violently at the spot where Narti had just been.

After hurrying back to her house, unsure of what she could do, she had called her friends. Lotor and Acxa, although living a lot farther away, both agreed to come down. Ezor had just been getting her front door unlocked when she got the call, so it wasn’t too far that she couldn’t quickly race down to the bridge.

Zethrid had waited outside the house, this time with her shoes and a coat on. Ezor arrived first, frantically asking where the attack had happened, and Zethrid had led her to the spot. Acxa and Lotor showed up not long after, equally as perplexed as the other two. Acxa had suggested texting Narti to see if it wasn’t just a hallucination or a wild animal that Zethrid had seen, but Narti never responded, only furthering the panic that the group was feeling.

Lotor stared down at the snow where Zethrid had pointed to something happening. It was white and fluffy, almost like it hadn’t even been touched. Maybe there was a hint of a footprint, but nothing incriminating.

“I just saw Narti, she was on her way home. Shouldn’t have been attacked in that time, there’s just no way,” Ezor reasoned. There was a look in her eye which suggested she was trying to convince herself, hoping that her friend wasn’t dead.

“Zethrid, you said it was over the edge of the bridge, right?” Acxa asked, raising an eyebrow.

Zethrid nodded. “Yeah, I could just barely see what was happening,” she confirmed.

Acxa sighed, “Maybe you think you saw something and you really didn’t…”

Zethrid frowned. “I know what I saw.”

“I’m just saying, maybe Narti just… tripped in the snow or something. She’s probably alright,” Acxa defended.

“That’s not what happened, Acxa! I’m sure of it! She was attacked!” Zethrid shouted, stepping toward her friend.

Ezor placed one hand on Acxa’s shoulder and the other on Zethrid’s. “Hey! Fighting isn’t going to help!” she reprimanded. “If Narti is fine, then that’s great, we’ll see her later,” she explained, trying to hold back the waver of fear in her voice. “If Narti is not fine, we need to do what we can to help her. Arguing doesn’t do that.”

Acxa stared at Ezor for a minute, then back at Zethrid. She nodded slowly, taking in her friend’s words. “You’re right,” she muttered. “Sorry.”

Zethrid came to the same conclusion, giving Acxa a friendly pat on the arm. “Me too,” she relented. They all stood there in the snow, wondering where Narti could have gone, what could have happened. Zethrid couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad had happened to her, even as her friends attempted to assure her otherwise. She wondered if she should have called the police first, if she should call the police now.

Lotor, who had kneeled down in the snow while the others were fighting, brushed away the snow. His eyes widened in shock. “Hey…” he called over his shoulder. “I think Zethrid’s story may have some validity…”

The other three wandered over to surround him. They all stared over his shoulder, attempting to get a look at what he was so focused on. Underneath the snow, on the ground where it had been expertly covered up, was a smear of blood. It was huge. There was no telling how far in each direction the blood puddle went unless they shoveled the snow away. Ezor gasped, her hand shooting up to her face. Acxa furrowed her brow in confusion and worry. Zethrid could feel anger pulsing in her veins, not just for the killer, but for herself too. She should have been watching Narti more carefully. She could have saved Narti and stopped the killer. It was all her fault. All she had done was watch it happen.

Zethrid swore, stepping away from the others and wiping a hand over her face in frustration.

“That’s definitely blood,” Lotor commented, running his fingers through the red liquid to inspect it.

“Oh my god,” Ezor breathed. “We have to call the police.”

“Already on it,” Acxa agreed. She retrieved her phone from her pocket again and began shakily pressing buttons.

Zethrid inhaled, her breath catching as she did. “I should have… The killer was right there, and I just…” she mumbled, running her hands through her hair and grabbing on roughly. Panic was quickly taking hold of her heart, distorting her ability to think. Everything felt as though it was moving too fast and too slow at the same time.

“Zethy,” Ezor called out. She gently touched her fingers to Zethrid’s arm, guiding it down and away from the woman’s hair. “It’s not your fault,” she reassured. There were tears brimming her eyes. “We’ll find her. She’ll be okay.” Ezor nodded along with her own words, prompting Zethrid to copy her. They could hear Acxa answering questions into the phone. Lotor stayed crouched in the snow, staring blankly at the blood pool.

They all stood around in the cold for a little while longer, waiting for the police, even as their fingers froze and their spirits dropped. Zethrid couldn’t help but feel that Ezor was wrong; it was her own fault and they wouldn’t find her okay.

 

◊ ◊ ◊

 

Fuck. He fucked up. He fucked up so bad, and he knew it. Everything about what he had done was wrong and bad, he hadn’t followed any of his own rules and protocols. He was supposed to just exsanguinate a body and dispose of it, pretend it wasn’t a person, look past the human aspect of it and get what he needed. It was true that he didn’t have his blood collecting container and his rope, but that didn’t mean he had to do this. A single fuck up was fine, that happened every now and again, it wouldn’t have been the first time. But this wasn’t a single fuck up.

The first time, he had been caught while killing a woman and was forced to leave his blood container. It was in the news now, everyone was on the lookout for other murders. That woman was supposed to disappear, not be found so soon. He wasn’t even supposed to be in the town anymore once she was found, but there he was, still living in the town and her body never even properly hidden. And now, this was the second time that something had gone wrong. At the very least, he had gotten blood he needed – and he really needed it, fuck, did he ever – but at the cost of a witness, maybe even two. He knew that gal on the balcony with the cigarette saw everything, and maybe that smiley chick with the pink hair had seen him. He couldn’t be sure. His perception skills were so skewed.

Usually, he could see fine, he could think things through and assess what was worth the risk and what wasn’t. This time, it wasn’t like that. He was hungry. He had been hungry before, but rarely was it like that. His vision twisted around, distorting everything he looked at. His eyes shifted over, slitting into solid pools of a sickly yellow, only able to see possible targets. All his limbs felt light as they buzzed with adrenalin, jerking sporadically with the need to find someone to feed on. His senses were heightened.

His rational thinking, however, was not. It suddenly didn’t matter if anyone saw him or what they would do. The entire police force could come out there and shoot at him and he still wouldn’t back down, he’d just murder them all, take all their blood. Except, after coming back from his hunger induced break, after drinking that girl’s blood, he realized what he had done. He was starting to build up quite the reputation for a killer in small town. A killer that didn’t even exist, mind you. The point was for the blood. Only about five or so litres, once every four or five weeks, that was all he needed. Sure, that girl he had killed wasn’t nearly big enough to be a full five litres, and he didn’t have enough time to completely drain her, but it was enough to hold him off. He worked himself into a headache just thinking about the fact he would have to pick another target sooner than the allotted four or five weeks. He’d worry about that at a later date.

For now, what he really needed to worry about was where he was going to dump the body he was dragging through the snow. This lady was, much to his relief, a whole lot lighter than the other lady he had first killed. It might have had something to do with how small she was, but it could also have been the fact she didn’t exactly have a lot of blood in her anymore. Whatever the case, it made his job easier. This one, he could just carry away bridal style.

Still, the snow had it in for him. He tripped, his foot twisting to the side as he attempted to regain his balance, lest he take a tumble into the ground with the corpse he was carrying. After stumbling for a moment, he managed to right himself. He glared angrily at the snow in front of him, uneven and trodden with unseen branches. With a deep and heavy sigh, he continued to trudge his way along, cursing his own foolishness as well as the weather.

He had only arrived in town a couple days ago, so he wasn’t familiar with the layout of the forest surrounding the edge of town, but he figured that once he saw a suitable place to dump a body, he would recognize it. So far, all he had seen were a lot of trees, but none that he deemed to be good enough. It was dark, not that that was a problem, but it also didn’t help him. He could see well enough, even through the falling snow. His only worry was that he would have a repeat of last time and he might wander into someone who was out having a tromp through the snow. Although, who would possibly be out at such a late hour, and in the middle of a forest, no less.

As he was grumbling to himself, telling himself off for all the mistake he had made since arriving in the town, he stopped muttering and walking all at once. He paused, standing in the snow, covered in blood, a dead lady in his arms, in the snow, in the middle of the night. After a moment, he lifted his head slowly into the air, listening. He could hear something off in the distance, but he couldn’t be sure of what it was. Cautiously, he made his was around the trees, the snow crunching loudly underneath his feet as he went. The sound became more prominent.

Suddenly, the noise was clear. He brightened immediately and started rushing over to the source, as well as he could, anyway, with the deadweight in his hold. Emerging from the trees, he found himself standing on the bank of a little river. Incredibly, the water was running. He would have thought that with how cold it was in the winter, especially in the small town, the water would be frozen. It would certainly cause hypothermia in an instant for a human though, that much he was sure about. Still, he decided right then and there that it was the perfect dumping ground.

There were downsides to it which he had to consider. Freezing a body preserves the evidence, he knew that. But at the same time, the little stream dipped underground a few feet down the trail, so the body wouldn’t even be visible. Plus, who was coming out this far in the winter? No one. Even if they did find her body in the summer, he would already have skipped town long before then, so it really didn’t matter much in the end.

Crouching down next to the river, he carefully slid the body into the water, grunting with the effort as he did. Her body bobbed there for a moment. He stared at her face, pale and ashen, lifeless. Her limbs floated, spreading out in the water as the waves carried them outwards. The clothes she was wearing clung to her body, weighing it down from all the waterlogged fabric. Even though he was the one who had done that to her, he still couldn’t help the guilt pooling in his stomach and quickening his heart. He needed to eat, that couldn’t be avoided. It was a necessary evil. If he didn’t kill her, he would die himself. It was her or him. Still, the cocktail of shame and remorse that plagued him every time he ended another person’s life never went away, even when he rationalized with himself and listed out his reasons.

His limbs moved automatically, grabbing a nearby stick to help shove her body along through the water. His legs knew what to do, following along next to the river, careful on the rocks. His arms knew the drill, pushing the corpse, guiding it. His body was used to the times when his mind would black out and trail away on feelings of sorrow. While he pondered how many lives were worth his, his upper body was busy pressing down hard into the stick and forcing the stiff underground with the rest of the stream, never to be seen again. He tossed the branch in after her, just in case it had any trace of evidence on it.

For a moment, everything stood still. The breeze rustled his dark hair, the water’s loud sloshing echoed through the trees, and the snow fell. He didn’t move. His stomach, although turning with unease, was full, and that in itself made him feel a little bit better. At least he wasn’t going hungry, because then he wouldn’t be safe around anyone and more people would be getting hurt than just one.

People like Lance. That strange boy from the apartment complex. He didn’t want to hurt that boy. If he had to dump a body into the water in the woods once every few weeks, then the guilt was worth it, just as long as he never harmed that nervous, melancholy boy with the weird puzzles and the taste for revenge on his tongue. He seemed to have been hurt enough in his life, he deserved something he could hold onto. They both did. His hand found its way into his pocket, smoothing itself over the coloured squares and the hard plastic of the object in his pocket. A gentle smile curved his lips slightly.

With that thought in mind, he ducked his head, spun on his heel, and wandered back off into the woods, hoping that he would find a road that looked familiar eventually. He should really have invested in a map sooner. He would put that on his to do list.

 

◊ ◊ ◊

 

Lance stepped out into the cool air. Taking in a deep breath, he steeled himself for another day at school. The same thing every day, never a break. Just a repeat; get up, get ready, walk to school, finish assignments, devise ways to escape Rolo and his goons. Lance sighed just thinking about it. He probably wouldn’t even get to see Keith either, which meant that it really was another boring day with nothing to look forward to.

Except, this day, something was different. As Lance wandered through the backyard of the apartment building, he passed by the snowed in playground. The same playground where he had first met Keith and where they had had their conversation the night before, how close they had been. He briefly remembered how Keith had hurried away with a stomach full of pain, pretending as though he were fine as he claimed to have medication for it. Lance had really panicked then. He hoped Keith was okay.

As he passed by the playground, Lance noticed something sticking out of the snow, partially hidden due to the downfall in the night. The only reason that Lance noticed it at all was because he happened to have been staring at it longingly, wishing to hang out with Keith again. Lance paused, his eyes connecting with the solid square of colour. At first, he couldn’t be sure what it was, but as he shifted his path to wander closer, it became clear.

A wide grin broke out across Lance’s face and he raced through the snow the rest of the way to the playground, his boots getting stuck in the heaps of snow and tugging him down. Lance, with his rosy cheeks and his bright smile, reached out to pick up the object. His Rubik’s cube. The same cube he had lent to Keith the night prior. Although he had said he wouldn’t be there the following day, he still returned the cube as Lance had asked. Lance’s heart leaped and his body flooded with a warmth he seemed to be feeling a lot more since running into Keith. Not only had Keith given it back when Lance had requested, but it was solved. The colours were no longer a jumble anymore, blues next to red and yellows, now all the pieces were exactly where they were supposed to be, solid colours.

Lance spun it around, inspecting all of it. He stared hard at the stickers, but none of them had been lifted off. Lance had considered lifting the little coloured squares off and replacing them so it looked solved, but he never had. If someone – Keith – had scraped the stickers off, it would have been obvious. That wasn’t the case though. Keith had just straight up turned the cube to completion. Lance stared at it in disbelief.

“What the fuck?” he whispered at it, his smile still in place. Lance had been trying to solve it for so long and he could never get it. Then suddenly, this guy who had never seen a cube before just comes along and solves it in one night. That was insane. Keith had to be a genius or something. Lance flipped the cube around once more, laughing a little. He had forgotten what it even looked like when it was complete.

Lance lowered the cube, staring past it to the window directly next to his own on the third floor. He could still see the plant leaves flourishing by the window where Keith had left them. The lights were still off and there was still no sign of life in there. Lance had almost been expecting to see Keith watching him, but that was just wishful thinking.

It occurred to him abruptly that he was supposed to be going to school. His eyes widened at the realization. Quickly, Lance shoved the cube into his pocket and bumbled his way through the snow, struggling to get to the main path. Even as he sprinted down the trail to school he couldn’t erase the smile taking over his face. He hoped that Keith would show up again soon. Maybe he would show Lance how he solved it too.

The wind whipped at Lance’s cheeks, pinpricks of cold embedding into his skin. His backpack pressed into his shoulders and slowed him down a little bit. It jostled around with the movements he made. His boots crunched into the snow, compacting it into the sidewalk. Lance huffed out breaths as he hurried along, the air before him fogging up. Another laugh escaped him, he couldn’t even help it, he just hadn’t felt that happy in a long while, and it was all because of some ridiculous cube puzzle and a weird guy who lived next door.

When Lance finally got to school, he didn’t even have time to feel down, already packing everything away in his locker and scurrying off to class. Lance had never liked school. It came pretty easy to him. He wasn’t top of the class or anything, but he knew he could be. Instead of trying and applying himself, he just coasted along, letting everything sort itself out. His marks were good, enough to keep his mother proud of him and his grades up, that was all Lance really needed anyway.

So, during class, rather than pay attention, Lance gently shifted the cube around in his hands. He never scrambled it, or even turned it once. The fear that he would mess up all the hard work that Keith had done was enough to keep him from playing with it in class. For part of the class, Lance attempted to work out mentally how Keith had done it, but after he realized he couldn’t just mind-map his way through a Rubik’s cube, he gave up on that idea. Instead, Lance placed it on his desk and stared at it. He folded his arms up and rested his head on it, glancing up at the cube. Whatever the teacher was saying, he wasn’t listening, he was too busy lost in thoughts of what Keith was up to in his plant paradise.

Logically, Lance knew he shouldn’t be so attached to a man he’d only spoken to twice, both outside at night, but he couldn’t help it. He was drawn to Keith like a moth to a flame, and he wasn’t sure why. Whatever the reason, he didn’t really want it to stop.

Once Lance finally made it out of his classes and to his locker again at the end of the day, he still had the excited, affectionate feeling blooming in his stomach. Lance grabbed his coat from his locker, sticking one arm in the sleeve, following closely with the other one. No one stopped him. No one tried to stop him. There wasn’t a hand slamming down on the locker next to him, there wasn’t a shadow looming over him, there was a constant presence of eyes on his back. Even as Lance glanced up and down the emptying hallways, even as he peeked over the tops of everyone else’s heads, he still didn’t see Rolo, Nyma, or Beezer.

Well, the day just got better and better it seemed. Lance grinned brightly and let out a small huff of relieved laughter into his locker. He couldn’t even believe it. Quickly, Lance shut his locker and manoeuvred his way through the hallways. Finally, Lance reached the door. He pushed it open, greeting the frigid winter air with a smile so large it pulled at his cheeks painfully. The snow felt lighter and warmer around him, as if the day itself was a gift just for Lance. It was beautiful.

Lance made his way home in high spirits, feeling better than he had in a long, long time. He hoped his days would be like that more often.


	6. Strawberry Red

It was a long while before Lance saw Keith again. Of course, it was really only a few days, but to Lance, it felt like an eternity. Every night, once Lance was finished dinner, done his homework, and had said goodnight to his mother and cat, he would hurry to his room so he could sit right next to his window and stare out into the yard. Keith wasn’t ever there, but he still waited.

On one night, Lance wondered if it was possible that Keith only came out into the yard when Lance was there. Maybe they were both just sitting at their windows, staring out into the darkness, waiting for each other, but getting nowhere. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he kind of hoped that that was the case, just because then it meant that Keith wanted to see him again. Due to that line of thinking, Lance had ventured out into the snow and waited for Keith there, but he didn’t show up that night either. Lance couldn’t help but feel disappointed.

When Lance finally did meet up with Keith again, it was when he was seated at the window once again, going through his homework. He tapped his pencil along the paper, thinking through his answer in his mind first. He sighed. Homework wasn’t always the most exciting, and it made it even more difficult to write things out when he was using the windowsill as a desk. As Lance was about to start scribbling a response down, a flash of movement caught his eye. Absently, Lance glanced upwards before returning to his homework. What he had seen fully registered in his brain. He whipped his head up, his eyes widening. There, seated on the playground with yet another outfit that was completely inappropriate for the weather, was Keith. He was looking around as though he was searching for something. A small gasp escaped Lance’s lips as he stared out the glass at the boy who he had been waiting for.

Lance didn’t waste another second, he scraped his chair across the floor and scrambled over to his bed. He scooped up the solved cube he had kept on his pillow. The knife he had been using before was still stashed under the mattress where he kept it hidden. Lance grabbed it, along with his hat, and rushed over to the door. His bedroom door was still closed, but he placed a hand on it, took a deep breath to steady himself, and quietly opened it. Leaving to go outside was quite the operation, after all. He had to be calm.

With a composed demeanor about himself, Lance opened the door. He could hear his mother in the living room, watching her show with Blue curled up on her lap. Lance stepped down the hallway, holding himself back from racing out the door for fear that Keith would leave if he didn't get there soon enough.

“Lance?” his mother called.

Lance cringed at the question in her voice. He paused. “Yes, _mamá?”_ Lance shouted back, sounding as casual as he could. As he waited for an answer, he slowly slid his feet along the wooden floor, trying to sneak his way to the front door where his coat was.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

He could still hear the voices from her television show blaring through the room. “Just outside. I need some fresh air, but I’ll be back soon. Promise,” Lance assured.

There was a beat of silence. “Alright…” she uneasily relented. “Just make sure you’re safe.”

“I will, _mamá,”_ Lance promised. He gave a silent fist pump through the air, followed by a hissed out, “Yes!” Lance ripped his coat off the wall and leaped into his boots, rushing out the door as he was forcing his arms into the sleeves of his jacket. Slamming the door with his foot and zipping up his jacket at the same time, Lance excitedly sprinted down the hallway to the staircase. He almost giggled on his way down, but luckily, he was able to suppress it. Even if he was alone, that would have been extremely uncool.

When Lance got to the bottom of the stairs, he rushed through the halls as quickly as he was able until he got to the doors leading outside. They were metal doors with small windows to peek through. Lance stared out through the window, grinning when he spotted Keith in the same place as before, staring up at – what Lance guessed was – the window to Lance’s apartment. He smiled to himself, then pushed opened the doors to meet him out in the cold.

As soon as Lance’s boots hit the snow, Keith dropped his line of sight to stare at the newcomer. Lance’s heart stuttered as the guy smiled upon realizing who it was.

Once Lance was close enough, he greeted, “Hey, Keithy boy!” Lance tried his best to exude as much confidence as he could.

“Lance,” Keith answered happily, rather than giving a formal, _‘hello,’_ or a casual, _‘hey.’_

Lance awkwardly stared at Keith, just grinning softly. Keith did the same from his perch on the playground, a gentle set to his features. They stood there, staring, neither making any effort to say something. Lance shuffled his feet then, averting his eyes to the side. “So, are you alright now?” Lance asked hopefully.

Keith tilted his head in question. “Am I alright?” he repeated, confused.

Lance rocked back on his feet. “Yeah, last time we were here, you suddenly toppled over. Practically gave me a heart attack, man,” Lance laughed humourlessly.

Keith’s eyebrows shot up in realization. He smiled again. “Oh! Yeah, that. I’m fine now, it wasn’t a big deal.”

“That’s good. I’m glad. Don’t ever do that to me again though, I thought I was going to have to call an ambulance.” Lance nodded. With a deep breath to wash his anxieties away, Lance decided to close the distance between them until he was seated on the playground next to Keith. He didn’t meet Keith’s eyes though, nervous about what kind of expression he might have. Instead, he pulled the cube out of his coat pocket and shoved it into Keith’s chest.

Keith grunted, surprised, but his hands slowly came up to take the cube from Lance. He snorted. “Good, you got it back. I wasn’t sure,” Keith commented, smiling.

“That’s not the important thing here, Keith,” Lance said seriously. “How did you do that?” He pointed to the cube, an edge to his voice.

“I just turned it.” Keith shrugged, as if he hadn’t done what Lance had been trying to do for years.

Lance lowered his eyebrows at Keith. “Yes, but how did you solve it so fast?”

Keith’s eyebrows lowered to match Lance's. “I just did what you said to do; I turned it until the colours matched.” That didn’t explain anything, but Keith seemed to believe it did.

“Yes, but what did you do?” Lance questioned, staring into Keith’s eyes intently.

Keith continued to stare at him with irritated bewilderment, not understanding why Lance was persisting so intensely. Then, his eyebrows softened and his eyes lidded slowly. “Are you asking me to teach you?” Keith guessed, an amused lilt in his tone. He smirked at Lance, shuffling to the side to better face him. There was a smug hint to his expression.

“I–” Lance cut himself off, frowning at the face Keith was making. It shouldn’t have been as attractive as it was, but that didn’t mean Lance was going to give in to it. “No. I’m not. I don’t need your help,” Lance pointedly insisted. He crossed his arms defiantly. His mind flashed back to his idea of asking Keith how to solve it, and how easily he had abandoned it when presented with that self-satisfied grin of Keith’s.

“What was it you said earlier about learning my _‘fancy knife tricks’_ before I can solve this?” he asked with mock contemplativeness, tapping the edge of the cube to his chin as he did. “Wasn’t it something like, _‘I can’t wait to see the look on your face when I win?’”_

Lance gave him a flat look. “You think you’re so clever,” he muttered.

Keith laughed wholeheartedly, throwing his head back with the action. “Well, Lance, here you go.” He gestured to his face. _“This_ is the look on my face.”

As much as Lance wanted to be mad at Keith’s teasing, he couldn’t. It took everything in him not to start sputtering right then, because the look on Keith’s face, while not being what he had envisioned, was very beautiful and adorable. He was so proud of himself to have solved the puzzle for Lance, beating him in a challenge that hadn’t been fully serious to begin with. Lance could feel his cheeks heating up a little bit more and he had never been more relieved that it was winter so he would have an excuse.

“Hardy, har, har. That’s hilarious, Keith, really, I’m in stitches,” Lance deadpanned, but he cracked a small smile at the end of his sentence as Keith began to chuckle. “Are you going to teach me or are you going to continue to be a dick about it?” he relented with the raise of his eyebrows.

Keith studied Lance for a moment. “You want me to teach you how to solve this thing and how to wield a knife, but what am I getting in return?” he propositioned.

“What you should be getting is a haircut,” Lance murmured.

Keith glared at him. “My hair is fine,” he defended.

“It’s a mullet, but whatever you say, Keithy,” Lance teased, leaning over enough to playfully bump his shoulder into Keith’s.

“Guess you’re not learning anything today,” Keith replied, handing Lance’s cube back to him.

Lance sputtered briefly, “Okay, no, no, wait. In return, I will…” he paused to think of something, coming up blank, “…do all your homework for you…” Lance squinted past Keith at what a lame offer he had come up with.

Keith snorted, taking the cube back. “I don’t have homework, but thanks,” he sarcastically replied, giving a wry grin.

Lance pondered that for a moment. “Are you not in school?” he asked, surprised. Keith seemed smart. Lance had assumed he would be in university or something.

“No, I never went to school,” Keith admitted.

“Never?” Lance leaned forward to better see Keith’s expression as he was staring intently at the cube. Keith shook his head. He didn’t look sad or remorseful about it, but Lance did, and he wasn’t sure why.

“How old are you?” Lance asked. He wasn’t sure why he had asked that, but he wondered if maybe Keith could go back and earn his high school diploma or not. He was also curious because he didn’t appear to be much older than Lance himself.

Keith paused at the question. He raised his head a bit to stare into the sky, squinting. His face morphed into a wince. Lance was about to take his question back, but before he could, Keith hesitantly answered, “Twenty… Twenty-one… Twenty or twenty-one,” he decided on, turning to Lance, his face no longer scrunched up in thought.

Lance stared at Keith, waiting for him to explain, but he never did. “Twenty or twenty-one…?” he echoed.

Keith nodded in confirmation. “More or less.” He shrugged.

Furrowing his eyebrows and staring at Keith incredulously, he prodded further. “What do you mean _‘more or less?’”_

“I don’t remember which one it is,” Keith clarified. Except, that didn’t clarify a damn thing.

Lance sat there, utterly confused. Every time he asked something that he thought was a simple question, Keith turned it around on him, making it into a riddle. The guy was an enigma, and yet Lance still found himself completely enraptured. Lance couldn’t help but feel that everything Keith said had a secret double meaning beneath it, as though there were a million and one things that he wasn’t mentioning, all which Lance wanted to know about. He wanted to solve Keith just like Keith had solved his cube.

“When’s your birthday?” Lance asked with determination.

Keith hummed contemplatively once more. “October 23rd,” he recalled. In his hands, he spun the cube around, tapping it with his fingernails every so often.

“What year?” Lance asked.

Again, Keith creased his face with the effort of thinking back. Lance watched on, confused as to why he would forget something like his birthyear. Lance knew his, everyone Lance knew, knew theirs. Finally, the answer left his tongue with an unsure note to it, “659 B.C.E.”

Lance didn’t say anything. Keith didn’t say anything else. They just stared at each other. Lance’s brain seemed to have stopped computing at some point. What the fuck. Keith had said a lot of things that made Lance pause and take a moment to process, but this was a different level. Had Keith been playing him for a fool the entire time?

“B.C.E.,” he said again, disbelieving.

“It means Before Common Era,” Keith told him. There wasn’t any malice in the way he said it. Keith just assumed Lance had repeated it because he hadn’t known what that meant, but that wasn’t what the issue was.

Lance nodded and put up a hand to stop Keith right there. “I know what it means,” he curtly said. “You’re trying to tell me that you’re two thousand years old?” He stared at Keith flatly, completely unimpressed.

Keith didn’t seem to find a problem with that response, that, or he was really committed to fooling Lance. He hummed, “Twenty-six hundred seventy-six, actually. I just can’t remember if that’s twenty or twenty-one in human years.”

“Alright, whatever,” Lance huffed. “Don’t tell me how old you are then.” He hiked his shoulders up to his ears defensively, facing away from Keith. Lance couldn’t help but feel like he was being made fun of.

“I just did.” Keith furrowed his eyebrows in puzzlement. “I’ve been around for awhile, but you don’t have to believe me,” Keith insisted gently. The way his voice dipped at the end was so soft and sad sounding that Lance’s shoulders drooped down a bit more.

He felt conflicted. Obviously, he knew Keith was lying or delusional, but he found himself wanting to believe every word that left Keith’s mouth.

“How old are you?” Keith asked, tilting his head to the side and watching Lance again. His long hair dangled down, one of his bangs tickling his nose in a way that clenched Lance’s heart painfully.

“Eighteen,” Lance answered immediately. “I’m in my graduating year, so it’s not weird…” he added. Lance had always been a little self conscious about the fact he was going to graduate right before he turned nineteen.

Keith chuckled, amused at Lance’s insistence about his schooling. “Are you going to post-secondary?” he questioned, scooting a little bit closer to Lance with a curious smile on his face.

Lance’s cheeks heated up a little bit but he chose to ignore it. “I don’t know yet…” he disclosed. “Maybe, but probably not. I don’t think I can handle anymore… school…” Lance smiled sadly, nervously rubbing his hands together. He hadn’t worn any gloves in his rush to meet up with Keith and he was starting to think that maybe he should have. Every second that passed, Lance’s hands got colder.

“Oh, right…” Keith awkwardly breathed out. “Well… I’ll be your teacher then,” he decided on. Keith sat up straighter, turning to Lance with a determined look.

“What?” Lance dumbly asked, his eyes widening in surprise.

Keith grunted in affirmation, “I’ll teach you.” With that, he began mixing the cube in his hands up, turning it so quickly that there was no telling how to get it back to its solved state by retracing his movements. Once it was done, he held it out to Lance.

Hesitantly, Lance grabbed it from Keith’s hand. Lance laughed softly as he realized what Keith was getting at. “You’re going to teach me to solve the Rubik’s cube?” he asked.

“Yes,” Keith answered, still with the same determination. “You have to start on the edge piece of one side,” Keith instructed, leaning over to point at the cube with one pale finger.

Lance watched him instead of where he was pointing, but Keith didn’t seem to notice, too focused on teaching Lance. “I know how to get the edges, Keith,” Lance snorted. He had shown Keith how the cube worked only a couple days earlier, there was no reason for Keith to show him again.

“Yeah, but you do them wrong. Now listen,” Keith stated. He didn’t pull any punches, wow. Keith retrieved the cube from Lance’s hands again.

Lance’s eyebrows raised, slightly offended, but he stayed quiet, listening as Keith explained how the edges had to match the middles of the other sides. He demonstrated with a couple edge pieces on the red side, checking Lance’s face every now and again as he went through the step to make sure he was following along. Lance watched on, wide-eyed, soaking up all the information he could. It was a little difficult when Keith was so close and speaking so gently, all while making the most intense, yet charming, expression that Lance had ever seen on another person. Keith moved on to explaining the corners, illustrating exactly how to orientate them correctly and place them in their correction spots. He exhibited that with a few corners too.

Once he had gone through the steps, he mixed the cube up once more and handed it back to Lance. “Try it,” he ordered.

Lance took the cube back. He had done one side before, but never with focus on the other sides in relation. Lance started at the blue side, searching for the matching edge pieces to put them into their respective places. This time, however, he made sure to check whether they matched the middles of the other sides too. The corners were a little bit trickier. He found that it took him a lot more time than he wanted it to for him to get all the corner to line up together. He got stuck on one piece, but eventually got it. Usually, Lance could get one side a lot quicker, but between the new instructions, the cold numbing his fingers, and the presence of a cute guy watching his every move, Lance was fumbling a lot more than he should have been.

Once he was done, he leaned back, staring at it as a whole. Sure, Lance had done a full side before, but with the edges matching, it looked even more complete. Lance couldn’t hide the glow of pride he felt at having done that himself. Keith had given him the tips, but he had done the actual turning all on his own. “Holy shit,” he mumbled. “Keith, look!” Excitedly, Lance presented the cube to Keith, a huge grin plastered across his face.

Keith took the cube from Lance’s hands, holding it up in between them. “Classic,” he breathed out, an air of pride for Lance and his achievement.

“What now?” Lance asked, eager to finally get to the end of a Rubik’s cube.

Keith hummed, “Do it again.” Then, with another swift motion, Keith flicked the cube out of place again, completely messing it up once more.

Lance, who had been about to ask what Keith meant, immediately cut himself off with a strangled noise. “What’re you doing?!” he shrieked. It had just been solved partway, why was Keith destroying it?!

He lunged for the cube to stop Keith, but Keith pulled back, lifting his hands above his head so they could turn the cube out of Lance’s reach. Lance landed across Keith’s lap. “You have to learn it in steps, Lance,” Keith laughed.

“I’ve already got that step!” Lance complained, still spread out over Keith’s legs.

Keith shook his head. “It has to be muscle memory,” he decreed.

Lance quickly regained himself, launching upwards to grab the cube again. Keith laughed the whole time, leaning back farther to, once again, escape Lance’s desperate fingers. Lance reached too far, loosing his balance and tumbling into Keith. They both fell over, landing on the playground platform. Keith nearly lost the cube over the other side of the playground, but he managed to secure his grip on it. Lance, who had landed on Keith, pushed himself up, one hand in the playground snow, the other on Keith’s chest.

As Lance realized their position, he immediately froze, his face heating up so much he nearly burst into flame. He was sprawled out over Keith, all his weight on the other man’s body. Keith’s arms were extended over his head, stretching him taut over the metal platform of the playground, highlighting his muscles through the light clothing he was wearing. All around his head, Keith’s hair splayed outwards, forming a messy mane that was enough to make Lance’s heart nearly stop, especially with the way it framed Keith’s face so beautifully. His bangs were falling backwards over his forehead, exposing more of his face, which was relaxed in a smile. His eyes squinted shut from the force of the laughter wracking through him, tilting him backwards. Keith’s neck was exposed, unmarked pale skin displayed right before Lance, and he found himself fighting the desire to gently kiss Keith.

Lance couldn’t move, mesmerized by the boy beneath him. Keith giggled, lifting his head a bit to stare at Lance. “I can’t teach you if you’re on me,” he chuckled, staring Lance in the eye.

“Are you sure?” Lance squeaked out. He wasn’t sure what he was hoping to accomplish with that, but Keith seemed amused.

 _“No,_ I can’t,” Keith said pointedly.

Lance still made no move to get up though. He wasn’t sure if it was because he didn’t want to get up or because he really couldn’t. His cheeks heated up, burning his skin.

Keith’s smile morphed into a look of concern. “Lance, are you cold?” he asked gently. “You’re red.” Without waiting for Lance to answer, Keith dropped the mixed cube onto the platform next to them and brought his bare hands up to cup Lance’s face. Lance’s eyes widened even more. He wasn’t even sure if the heat he felt was from Keith’s hands or his own lovestruck heart hammering blood to his cheeks at the feeling of Keith’s touch, but whatever the case was, Lance really needed to relearn to breathe, because it was starting to become a problem.

Suddenly, Lance was yanked down and pushed over, being rolled to the side with the force of Keith’s weight. In a single swift action, Keith had managed to flip them over so he was on top. His hands were still supplying warmth for Lance’s skin and Lance’s hand was still firmly pressed into Keith’s chest. Their bodies were flush up against each other, leaving Lance’s heart to nearly burst. Keith lingered for a moment, just a second, so short that Lance could have easily just been seeing what he wanted, but then he was gone. Keith stood, no longer right up against Lance’s body, but standing in the snow instead. He offered a hand to Lance.

Up to that point, Lance had been fully expecting to wake up from a dream and find himself with his head in his homework after falling asleep waiting for a guy to show up in the backyard of their shared apartment complex when in reality, he had skipped town days ago with Lance’s cube and his heart. Except, that wasn’t what happened. Lance took a moment to calm himself down from his heart attack, fully realizing that all of that had just happened and Keith didn’t seem the least bit concerned about it, like it didn’t register in his mind. God, Keith had no idea what he did to Lance, that was for sure.

Lance accepted the hand, letting himself be pulled into a standing position. Keith grabbed the mixed-up cube from the playground and handed it to Lance. “You should go inside and warm up,” he whispered to Lance, the cold coagulating his breath in the air.

“Yeah…” Lance regretfully agreed, his cheeks still flaming. He knew that the longer he stayed out in the snow with Keith, the more likely it would be that he would do something stupid. _“Mi mamá_ is going to wonder where I went soon anyway…”

Keith nodded in understanding. “Don’t keep her waiting.” Then, he tapped the cube in Lance’s hand. “Practice the first step, too. Next time I’ll teach you step two,” he promised, seating himself back on the playground.

Lance smiled, happy that there was definitely going to be a next time. “I’ll blow you away with how well I can do the first step, just you wait,” he bragged teasingly.

Keith snorted. “Goodnight, Lance,” he said, obvious hint in his voice that it was Lance’s cue to leave already.

“Goodnight, Keith,” Lance grinned. He stared at Keith for one moment longer, then he turned and stumbled back through the snow to the apartment building. His heart still hadn’t stilled by the time he opened the door, and he wondered if it ever would.


	7. Mahongany Red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to warn y'all about the bullying in this chapter. I'm beginning to think I'll have to start putting warnings before chapters in general because things get a little...  
> Anyway! Hope you enjoy!

It was brilliant. It was genius. It was the best idea that Lance had ever had. Lance was rather proud of his incredible plan. It had taken him awhile to come up with something, but he had finally done it. Keith didn’t have a phone, so he couldn’t text Lance to coordinate anything or to simply chat with him, and that was what Lance really wanted. So, he needed an alternative. They lived right next door to each other, so it really shouldn’t have been as difficult to get a hold of the other if it was needed, not as difficult as it was, anyway. It wasn’t like Lance could just wander over to Keith’s in the middle of the night and hope his mother didn’t hear the opening of the front door. Well, he could, but that would not end well, there was absolutely no way. It had to be something that Lance could get away with and something that didn’t require too much on Keith’s part since he didn’t seem to have a whole lot to work with.

And that was what led to Lance’s ingenious idea; Morse code. He had seen a book stashed in the library on the topic, and he had even skimmed through it a couple of times. The idea was perfect. All he had to do was write out two sheets with the Morse code on it; one for himself and one for Keith. Then Lance could just lay in his bed and talk to Keith as if he was texting him, just by tapping on the wall. He wasn’t sure where in Keith’s apartment the wall connected, but he was positive that Keith lived alone anyway, so it wouldn’t matter. Unless he had something up against that wall... He would have to ask Keith.

With that idea in mind, Lance made sure that the second he got to school, he packed all his things into his locker and headed immediately to the library. There were always a few minutes before class began by the time Lance arrived at school, but on this day, he decided to leave home earlier so that he would have more time to find the book he wanted.

Lance didn’t know Morse code. He had never learned it, although the book had always been there and he had always had the opportunity. The opportunity to use it had just never arisen so there was really no reason for him to learn it before. Maybe Keith already knew Morse code? He was the type of guy who seemed to know that sort of thing, but if he didn’t, then they would be learning together. The idea excited Lance. Not just the fact that he would be able to freely talk to Keith in his room whenever he was around using this form of communication, but also that he could learn Morse code alongside Keith. Perhaps, one day, they would both be so used to speaking through the wall that Lance would have the entire alphabet memorized. He wouldn’t even need to look at a sheet to translate what Keith was saying, or to transcribe his own message. He wouldn’t need to write down the letters that Keith sent back to figure out his entire sentence because it would just be second nature to them. That aspect was what Lance was most looking forward to.

Lance quickly rushed to the library, scooting around people in the hallway until he reached the doors. There weren’t a lot of people there that early in the morning other than a few kids who were working on assignments in the corners and a few kids printing things off on the computers. Lance jogged his way through the library, hurrying along to the bookshelf where he remembered seeing the book on Morse code. His eyes scanned the books as he searched, muttering the names of the books rapidly under his breath. Suddenly, he found the one he was looking for and his eyes lit up. He grabbed it off the shelf instantly and raced away to his class.

Most of Lance’s teachers would immediately confiscate anything distracting a student in class, no matter how minor, so Lance didn’t have a chance to write down his code for the majority of the day, instead having to listen to boring lessons which dragged on. He couldn’t bring himself to focus on any of them, and not only because he didn’t care, but mainly because he was so eager to yank the book out of his bag and begin work on setting up the code. Ever since the events of the last meeting with Keith, Lance had been planning and dreaming up ways of being able to connect with him more, because it was quickly becoming Lance’s favourite activity.

During the last period, Lance finally had the chance to do whatever he wanted. That teacher was his favourite, and he was pretty sure that he was her favourite too because he was always answering her questions. If Lance was doing something else in her class, she let it slide. He loved her class, but today, as with most classes, Lance wasn’t interested in what the teacher was teaching, so instead he read up on Morse code.

He got the gist of it, but there was still a lot he didn’t get. While the teacher spoke, he read, slowly understanding all the intricacies of the communication system. It was really a language in its own right. With every word he read, he became more and more excited about introducing it to Keith, if he had never heard of it before, that is.

Morse code was invented in 1836, named after Samuel Morse, the inventor of the telegraphs, which used tones, lights, and clicks to transmit messages. It had originally been made for the English language, but it had been adapted into many other languages over the years too. Lance found that particularly interesting. He wondered if there was a Spanish Morse code. There probably was.

Lance continued to read until he figured that he understood it enough that he could begin transcribing. He grabbed his notebook out of his backpack, flipped to an empty page, and ripped it clean out of his book. Lance carefully listed the alphabet cleanly on the side. Once that was done, he went through the list in the book, adding dots and dashes which corresponded to each letter. Some had four units or three units, some as few as two units, but each of them were unique. Lance smiled as he pictured himself actually using the code to speak to Keith. He could almost see it now.

Once he was finished, Lance glanced over it, double checking so there wasn’t any confusion. It was perfect. Lance folded that sheet up, addressed it to Keith, and placed it in his pocket. He ripped out another sheet and began on the second code which he would keep for himself. That one went by a little bit quicker. Giddiness arose within Lance as he realized that the information was already sticking to his brain. He would have Morse code down in no time.

After that sheet was done too, Lance leaned back. He felt accomplished. Yet, something bothered him. What if he forgot his sheet somewhere? Or what if he lost it? Lance didn’t want to have to borrow the book again, that would just be inconvenient. Instead, Lance opened his notebook once again and transcribed an extremely tiny version of the code into the corner of the page, just so he would have it on hand if the need came about. Lance smiled at his work.

The class wasn’t over though, so Lance practiced tapping and scraping his fingers across the desk silently. He used the book in front of him to make some messages, pretending that he was speaking to Keith already. Before he could teach Keith how it worked, he would need to learn it himself. How embarrassing would it be to try and show Keith how to Morse code worked, only to fuck it all up? He had to seem like he had known it his whole life, or like he was a natural. This was his chance to teach Keith something. Keith was going to be blown away.

Now that Lance thought about it, he had never heard Keith in his apartment. Maybe Keith came back really late, or maybe he only stayed at the other end of the apartment, away from Lance. Well, to be fair, if Keith was trying to be as far away from Lance, he wouldn’t meet him outside at the playground, would he? No, that couldn’t be the case. Keith had to like speaking with Lance. Maybe Keith just walked really quietly in his house? That could be it. He had snuck up on Lance before, and that was in snow. There was no telling what kind of sneaking ability that guy was capable of in his own apartment, especially to someone who was only listening through a wall. Now that Lance thought about it, the fact he was listening through the wall at all was really creepy.

Rather than dwell on that, Lance decided to develop some quick codes that would be able to convey something quickly, just in case something came up. Sometimes, Lance would forget he had to be somewhere and would end up late. He needed a code that could communicate that fast. Lance’s mother also liked to come into the room every now and again, so Lance would need something that told Keith to stop tapping. If his mother found out that he was in contact with the neighbour, it wouldn’t be bad, it would just be bad when she found out it was through a wall at night. That would definitely raise a few red flags for her.

By the time Lance had everything decided and set up, the bell was already going. He hadn’t even realized that the class was nearing an end, too lost in thought. Everyone else began to stand, packing up their things and milling about the room. Lance glanced to the clock and grinned. Maybe Keith would be there when he got back.

Lance closed his notebook and shoved it into his backpack. It occurred to him that he would have to return the book he had checked out on Morse code. He could take it home with him, but it would just be extra weight since he had already gotten what he wanted from it. Lance supposed it really wouldn’t matter if he just quickly went to go check it back in. Lance scooped up the book and headed out of the classroom. He weaved his way through the halls until he got to the doors of the library. The library was empty by this time, seeing as everyone was leaving for home, so Lance just needed to go sign the book back in before exiting once more. He stopped at his locker to grab his coat, anxiously checking around before locking it again and scurrying off to the front doors.

Outside, the air was frigid, as usual, but there was a more unusual feeling about it. Lance couldn’t place his finger on it, but something felt off. He stepped outside carefully, testing the waters. Nothing happened. Most of the students who had been in the halls before were already clearing out, so Lance decided to follow a couple of them which were going in his direction for as long as he could. Safety in numbers, that’s what they always said. Even as he trailed the other kids, Lance couldn’t shake the feeling of dread looming over him. His heartrate picked up, only furthering his paranoia and anxiety. He clenched his fists and then unclenched them, a nervous tick. His eyes shifted sporadically, checking every dark corner he passed. Lance wasn’t even sure what had brought on the bad feeling, but he always trusted his gut instincts.

Slowly, one by one, the kids, who Lance had been following, dispersed and went their own ways, leaving Lance to wander past the school on his own. Lance could see the treeline, the start of the forest path that led to his apartment complex. He sped up a little bit. He could hear his heart in his ears, pounding and urging him faster. Lance’s legs burned to run but he forced himself to walk at a moderate pace, willing himself to calm down but knowing that he wasn’t safe.

Right as Lance’s foot was about to hit the side path, something grabbed hold of his jacket’s hood and yanked him backwards. He tumbled, fear clutching him almost as hard as the person behind him was. Lance gasped and tripped, briefly choking on his coat as the person holding him hauled him up. He was whirled around, catching his own legs on each other as he did, until he was face to face with the sinister grin of three classmates which he knew all too well.

“Where’re you off to, yerd?” Rolo’s voice gripped into him, like a vice around his neck, cutting off any words he could have said. He was so close, looming over Lance and breathing the pungent scent of smoke right into his face.

Lance resisted the urge to cough, instead, he nervously laughed, “There’s no need for this… Why don’t you just let me go and we can all be on our way…” Sweat pooled along his hairline and his entire body felt too hot with alarm.

“Saw you in class, scribbling notes from some old book,” Beezer commented, stepping up to Lance again. This time, there was no way for Lance to move away as Rolo’s grip was steadfast in the hood of his coat. “What was it?” Beezer asked innocently, although his eyes burned with malicious intent.

Lance didn’t have a chance to say anything before a hand was already jamming itself into his pocket and removing the note he had made for Keith. In his chicken-scratch handwriting across the front of the folded sheet, was Keith’s name, fully capitalized. Nyma waved it in front of Lance with a teasing grin. Lance instinctively lunged for it, but he was yanked back by Rolo once again.

Nyma laughed, “What’s this? A love letter?”

“It’s not–” Lance weakly attempted to argue, but he was cut off.

Beezer hooted, “You stealing poetry from old books? Is that it?"

Rolo creased his brow in disgust. “What poor girl has to endure that?”

“Even better,” Nyma grinned. She flipped it around so the other two could see, clearly displaying Keith’s name. “He’s a homo,” she snorted. “What else would we expect from a grease ball like him?” she condescendingly stared at Lance, as though he were the scum of the earth.

As she began to open it, Lance’s panic surged again and he lurched forward once more. Rolo pulled him back, rougher this time. He shook Lance a little bit, giving him a headache. “Try that again, fag, see what happens!” he threatened, spitting on Lance’s face as he did. Tears welled up in Lance’s eyes and he stared down in an attempt to hide them.

“Aw!” Beezer cooed sarcastically. “He doesn’t want us to read his letter!” A harsh laugh escaped him, causing more tears to fall from Lance’s eyes.

He just wanted to go home, he wanted none of this to have happened. If he had just kept the library book, this wouldn’t have happened. If he had just ran like he wanted to, this wouldn’t have happened. If he had just stayed home today, pretended to be sick, this wouldn’t have happened today.

Lance could hear as Nyma unfolded the letter. She skimmed it. “Boo, this is boring,” she whined. Once more, she turned it so they could all see, displaying the Morse code that Lance had written.

“What is that?” Rolo asked, squinting at the sheet.

“Is that Morse code?” Beezer questioned. He grabbed the paper from Nyma’s hands and inspected it a little closer. Lance’s fingers itched to take the paper back and race down the path away from them, but he could hardly see through his tears. Beezer sneered at the paper.

Nyma frowned. “I thought it was going to be fun!” she complained.

Beezer scoffed, moving to hold the paper in both hands. Lance’s head whipped up immediately as he realized what Beezer was about to do. Logically, he knew it didn’t matter if they ripped it up, he could just rewrite it, but something within Lance screamed at him to stop them. He wasn’t sure why though, maybe because it was the one he had written for Keith and it meant more to him? Whatever the reason, as Beezer was about to rip it, Lance lurched forward again, yelling out, “No!” He managed to escape Rolo’s grip momentarily, crashing into Beezer with the momentum and nearly knocking those goofy, fake cat ears off his head.

Beezer instantly shoved him away, grimacing. “Get off me, queer!” he shouted angrily at Lance.

Rolo grabbed him by the shoulder, digging his nails into Lance, causing him to squeak in pain. He stared at Lance with cold, deadly eyes. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” he bellowed. Lance didn’t have any time to respond, or to even think of something to say, because all too quickly, Rolo had reared his arm back and plunged it straight into Lance’s cheek.

Lance cried out and fell to the side, only being yanked back up by Rolo. His cheek radiated with pain, causing him to reach up. He cradled his cheek, blinking rapidly through the onslaught of tears threatening his eyes. Lance could barely think straight, too disorientated from the hit. He could register as Beezer laughed and shredded the piece of paper in his hands, dropping the remains onto the ground at Lance’s feet. Then, the nails digging into Lance’s shoulder disappeared, retracting themselves and moving away. Lance crumpled to the ground, in a heap along with his paper. He stayed there, rocking back and forth as he held his face. A low, pained screech left his throat, broken and ragged from the tears, but luckily, they had left him to his own misery. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered that his lip was split too, dribbling blood into his mouth. The torment was finally over, and all Lance wanted was to curl up under his covers and pretend it had never happened.

After what felt like forever, Lance finally managed to scrape himself up off the snowy pavement and make his way down the path. His feet dragged and he didn’t glance up once, but he made his way home slowly. The throbbing in his cheek wouldn’t stop, distracting him and reminding him of everything that had happened with every sharp sting of pain. Lance didn’t want to think about how late he was, or how he was going to explain this to his mother. Instead, Lance thought about seeing Keith again. Maybe Keith would teach him some more knife fighting so this would never happen again. When he thought of that, it made his stomach flip unpleasantly. He didn’t want to explain his bruised face to Keith either. What if it made Keith realize how weak Lance really was? Then he would never want to talk to Lance again.

With a heavy heart and a pounding cheek, Lance shuffled his way home.

 

◊ ◊ ◊

 

Lance pushed the door open gently, making sure that he moved as slowly as he could so that his mother wouldn’t hear him coming in. He shut it behind himself, locking it swiftly and cringing as it clicked loudly.

“Lance?” his mother called from the living room.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he shouted.

As his mother stood from the couch and made her way through the apartment to get to the front door, Lance panicked, trying his best to come up with an excuse for the blemish on his face.

“You came home late again,” she pointed out, concern slipping through the cracks of her reprimanding tone. “Why is that?”

Lance hung his coat up, carefully keeping his back to her. He couldn’t think of anything to cover up why he hadn’t been there on time, once more. Lance didn’t want this to become a recurring and constant thing where he would be late, leaving his mother to wonder if he was okay. There was still that killer on the loose, and who knew when they would pick a second victim. With calculated movements, Lance made his way to the kitchen, his cheek strategically hidden from his mother’s line of sight.

“I’m not late. There’s no such thing as being late because time is a manmade concept so really, I’m early, if you think about it,” Lance insisted. He internally groaned to himself. That was the worst excuse he could have come up with. Seriously, what was that? He went along with it anyway, panicking the entire time. He plastered a fake smile along his face and turned to his mother.

She frowned, but it quickly turned into an intense stare, as though she was studying something. Lance was about to ask what she was looking at, but then he realized he must have turned his face too much, revealing part of his cheek.

“Well! I’m beat, I think I should hit the hay,” Lance frantically said, already scooting past her.

“Lance, wait!” she called, following after him.

Lance shook his head, speeding up a little bit to get to the end of the hall. “No, waiting for someone to make you happy is the fastest way to be sad, that’s what you always taught me, _mamá,_ and you are right. No more waiting for me! Gotta get out there and take life by the horns, steer it where you wanna go, and all that,” Lance frenziedly rambled. He tried his best to scurry away from his mother, but she ignored him and grabbed him by the wrist.

“Lance,” she snapped, “show me your face.”

As she whirled him around to face her properly, Lance’s hand slapped against his bruise, covering it completely. It stung, but he pretended it hadn’t.

“Lance, I’m not letting you go until you show me your face!” she tried again. She wasn’t yelling, but she was raising her voice, more concern making its way into her words.

With a heavy sigh, Lance removed his hand, gradually revealing the sickly bluish-purple colour smearing across his face, bubbling up with dried blood beneath his skin. Lance flinched as his mother gasped audibly, her expression morphing into one of horror. She let go of Lance’s wrist to pull him forward. As carefully as she could, she cupped his jaw and inspected the wound. _“Pobrecito mi hijo,”_ she breathed. “What happened to you?” She gently touched his bruise and Lance startled away.

“Some guy hit me with his locker door because we both weren’t paying attention, it’s fine,” Lance lied easily, ignoring the bitter taste on his tongue.

His mother didn’t look convinced. She pulled back from his face, to stare at him intensely. _“Lance,”_ she said pointedly, as though she could see right through his obvious lie.

“It’s just a little bruise, _mamá,_ I’ll be careful next time, alright?” he promised. He gave his mother the most loving and reassuring smile he could, thinking about how lucky he was to have someone who loved him so much rather than thinking about what he was trying to cover up. Lance had found that faking a smile was easier when you had something positive to draw from.

It seemed to work as his mother pulled back again, her face relaxing a little bit. She stared at him for some time, debating what she had been told within her mind. “How does that even happen, Lance?” she innocently asked, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion.

Lance sighed, “I wasn’t looking, and he was just focusing on his locker, so when he opened it, I got clocked in the cheek. It was a freak accident, don’t worry about it.”

“Okay…” she relented. “Be careful next time, _mijo,_ look where you’re going,” she warned. Finally, she let him go.

“I will, _mamá,”_ Lance assured. He calmly turned and made his way back to his room, his backpack still on his shoulder.

As he closed the door, she called out, “And put some ice on it.”

Lance filed that advice away in the back of his mind, but he knew he would never get around to adding ice onto his injury. Lance just wanted to go into his room and try to find something good in the day. He shut the door behind him and sighed heavily. His eyes slid shut briefly. When he opened them again, they brimmed with tears. Lance blinked forcefully, allowing the tears to fall. He rubbed them into his bruise, convincing himself that it was a healthy form of self-care. Finally, Lance dropped his backpack to the floor and retrieved the note from within it, the one he had originally written for himself as a Morse code reference. He neatly fitted it into his pants pocket, changing his plan to give that one to Keith instead. Then he could just make a new one from the notes in his notebook. It was fine. Lance wasn’t going to let this be a setback. He was going to speak to Keith through the wall, because Keith was one of the few things in his life that he now looked forward to. He wasn’t about to let him slip away.


	8. Brick Red

“Hey, nice scarf.”

Lance, who had been sitting on the playground, in the snow, instantly looked up to see Keith settling down on the platform one above him. He was grinning as he shuffled in the snow for a moment, his bright, violet, eyes never leaving Lance. Warmth bubbled up from within Lance, causing him to return the smile immediately. Keith looked so genuinely happy to see Lance.

Once again, Keith wasn’t wearing anything even remotely appropriate for the weather. His black skinny jeans were even a little bit too short as they rode up on his ankles when he crossed his legs underneath himself, exposing his skin to the snow. He also wore a cropped leather jacket, and beneath that, a thin grey shirt with a V-neck collar. Lance wasn’t complaining about the way he dressed, especially when he looked that good, but he still cringed knowing that it was snowing around them.

“Thanks, I don’t normally wear anything that covers my beauty, but it’s cold, so you’re going to have to make do with what you can get, Keith,” Lance teased, gesturing to his face dramatically. Everything below his nose was covered by the scarf, and although he could hardly breathe and felt as though he was being suffocated, he wasn’t about to take it off.

Keith rolled his eyes, attempting to hide his smile, but failing. “Oh, no,” he drawled in a monotone voice, “how will I go on?”

Lance released a big, long sigh. “I’m not sure you can, Keith. Especially since _you avoid me all the time!”_ He leaned back until he was sprawled along the playground, his head in the snow and a hand daintily pressed to his forehead. He closed his eyes, tilting his chin up and extending a leg into the air.

Keith snorted, quickly dissolving into little chuckles which he tried to hide behind his hand. He untangled his leg from where it was stuck under the platform and lightly kicked Lance’s leg with the top part of his boot, the part which hadn’t touched much snow. “Shut the fuck up,” he stated, amused. “Sometimes, I’m just busy, but I’m not avoiding you,” he clarified.

“I think you’re avoiding me,” Lance replied jokingly.

“I’m here now,” Keith pointed out. For whatever reason, he planted the calf of his leg on the bottom of Lance’s foot, resting it with the force of Lance’s extended leg. Lance giggled, slowly waving his leg back and forth so Keith’s leg moved with him.

Lance glanced back over to Keith, who was staring at him with a gentle and content smile. “Yeah, you are,” Lance agreed wistfully. That reminded him. Lance dropped his leg, letting Keith’s fall with it as he swiftly sat up again to meet Keith’s surprised face. “I almost forgot!” he cried excitedly.

“Forgot what?” Keith questioned as Lance began digging in his pocket.

Producing a folded-up sheet of paper, Lance grinned beneath his scarf and presented it to Keith with a flourish. Keith startled back a little bit, not expecting Lance to move so quickly. “For you,” Lance declared. His hands felt cold as the winds whispered by, but he still waited for Keith to take it.

Keith glanced between the paper and Lance for a moment, a suspicious glint to his eyes. “Okay…” he muttered, taking the letter from Lance. He unfolded it, studying it with confusion. “Morse code?” he asked, still puzzled at what he was supposed to do with this.

“Yeah,” Lance answered, beaming. “You said you don’t have a phone, so I was trying to figure out another way we could talk. We live next door, and the walls are pretty thin, so I thought we could use Morse code!” He felt more and more excited about the idea as he articulated it to Keith. Once he was done, he stared up at the boy again, waiting for his reply. Keith, however, just looked a little bit stunned, his lips parted on words he wasn’t speaking.

Something within Lance panicked and he immediately remembered what a weird idea this was. His heart dropped to his stomach and a queasy feeling took over his body. His skin was, all at once, too cold and too hot. His throat dried right up instantly, taking all the words in his vocabulary with it. He knew he shouldn’t have asked Keith. Speaking through the walls by tapping? What kind of idea was that? He was too eager. Keith probably _did_ have a phone and he just didn’t want to stay in contact with Lance outside of the strange, late-night moments when they hung out and Keith taught him random shit.

Lance was about to retract back into himself and take back the offer, take back the paper, but before he could, Keith muttered out, “You really thought this through…”

Lance nervously stared from the paper in Keith’s hand to his eyes, his hands beginning to shake from more than just the cold. “Yeah…” he agreed. His voice sounded more like a rustling bush than anything.

Keith stared at the paper for a long time, then he broke out into a small smile. “I just can’t believe you actually…” he trailed off, still staring at the paper in a trance. Finally, he returned Lance’s eye contact. “Never mind. This is perfect, it’ll work.”

Lance smiled brightly under his scarf, instantly sitting up straighter. He could feel as his nervous began to calm down a little bit more and his confidence returned. “Great! I’ll knock first so that you know where to answer, because it has to be the wall of my room. If my _mamá_ finds out, I’m definitely going to be skewered alive, and I probably won’t be able to talk to you anymore. I’ve set up codes and stuff so that way you know if she’s coming into the room or just if either of us needs to give a quick goodbye,” Lance rambled, letting out all the excited thoughts he had been storing away.

Keith just listened intently to Lance’s words, nodding along and glancing at the paper every now and again. “I don’t know how Morse code works,” Keith admitted when Lance stopped speaking to take a breath.

Lance’s eyebrows rose. “Really?”

Keith shrugged. “Yeah, I never learned.”

“That seems exactly like something you would know how to do,” Lance reasoned.

Keith raised an eyebrow. “Well, with everything I promised I’d teach you, you can finally teach me something.”

Lance liked that. His heart thudded in his chest. “Exactly. You may not know now, but fear not, Keithy, my boy, because I’m going to show you! Come sit next to me, I don’t bite,” Lance teased, patting the snow next to him.

Keith rolled his eyes again, but still slipped off the upper platform to slide down next to Lance. He sat a little bit closer than Lance was expecting him to, but definitely as close as Lance wanted him to. He smiled goofily, thanking his scarf for hiding it.

“Alright! So, for the dots, just tap the wall. For the dashes, scrape your nail along the wall. For spaces in letters, just don’t do anything for a moment. Don’t worry about spaces in between words, because those can be figured out after the entire message is sent across. Also, you should probably have a piece of paper to write down what I tap out to you, that way you won’t forget,” Lance explained.

Lance went on, “A dot will look like this,” he swiped some of the snow away from the platform that Keith had previously been sitting on and gently tapped his nail into the metal, “and a dash will look like this,” he scraped his nail along the metal instead.

During his explanation, Keith had been paying close attention, listening to what Lance was saying and nodding along with a serious expression. Except, somewhere along the way, he had stopped following Lance’s hand. Instead, Keith’s eyes stared intently at Lance’s face. His eyebrows creased together and a suspicious, almost angry look was overtaking his face. Lance tried his best to ignore the face Keith was making and focus on demonstrating Morse code, but Keith was also leaning in a little bit. Lance ducked his head a bit, but that didn’t stop it.

Eventually, it became too much. “What?!” he bit. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Lance had been expecting Keith to back down if he raised his voice a little bit, but that didn’t happen. Keith’s frown deepened further.

“What is that?” Keith snapped, glaring at a point on Lance’s cheek.

“What is wh–” Lance was cut off as Keith reached his hand up and tugged Lance’s scarf off his face, accidentally dragging Lance forward with it a little bit. Immediately, Lance knew what had happened.

The truth was, when Lance had come out to meet Keith at the playground, he hadn’t worn the scarf as a fashion statement, or to tease Keith, or even because it was cold. Lance had worn the scarf to cover up the bruise along his face. He had hoped that it would have gone away overnight, but that wasn’t how bruises worked. Even it if was, he hadn’t put ice on it, so what had he been expecting? It had happened the day before, and Lance really just didn’t want Keith to find out about it. At least it was a Saturday, so he didn’t have to deal with Rolo, Nyma, and Beezer again. He really needed a break, and to hang out with Keith.

That was, until Keith went and ruined the entire thing by revealing his injury. He was going to think Lance was weak, fuck.

Keith stared at the bruise, his mouth falling open and his eyebrows shooting up. “Lance…” he breathed.

Lance clenched his eyes shut and covered the bruise with his palm. His mouth turned downward in a frown and his eyes welled up a little bit. “It’s nothing,” he hissed.

“What the hell happened?” Keith asked, his eyes never left the nauseatingly bluish mark on Lance’s face and he reached up to tear Lance’s hand off of it.

“I said, it’s nothing!” Lance cried, becoming angry. He didn’t want Keith to see it, he didn’t want him to know. Lance struggled to rip his wrist out of Keith’s grip, to curl up and hide away, but Keith wouldn’t let him go.

Keith’s face turned murderous and he flicked his eyes over to Lance’s, meeting his gaze steadily, unblinking. Lance froze a little bit. He had never seen another person look quite so hauntingly lethal in all his life. Keith’s face seemed to take on a different tone; a darker, more sinister tone. There was resolve in his voice as he growled out, “Did Rolo do this to you?”

Lance shivered at Keith’s voice, letting his tense muscles go slack as defeat filled him. His eyes didn’t leave Keith, unable to look away from the danger radiating off of Keith in that moment. “Yeah…” he sighed out. “He cornered me after school…” Lance hated the way he sounded, hated the way his voice shook. He didn’t even want to admit it out loud, but everything just came pouring out of him. He was so tired of Rolo, Nyma, and Beezer. “It’s really not that big a deal…” he attempted defusing the bomb that Keith seemed to be.

Keith’s grip softened, sliding up his arm until he was holding Lance’s fingers. “Lance, listen to me,” Keith called, softly.

Lance stared at their joined hands for a minute, a sad sort of happiness overtaking him, then he trailed his eyes back up to meet Keith’s. This time, Keith’s eyes – although still clearly angry and ready to tear Rolo apart the second he saw him – were much gentler, soothing Lance.

“Hit him back,” Keith whispered. There was an edge to his voice.

Lance smiled sadly. “There’re three of them. Rolo, Nyma, and Beezer. I can’t hit back.”

“You’ve never tried hitting back before, have you?” Keith guessed, tilting his head as he did.

Lance shook his head, a little bit embarrassed about his inability to protect himself. “No, I haven’t…”

“Do it,” Keith insisted. His hand tightened around Lance’s fingers for a moment before letting up again. “Hit back. _Hard.”_

Slowly shaking his head, Lance could feel the self doubt fill him with images of getting beat up even worse. “You said you were going to teach me how to fight with a knife for this…” he awkwardly joked.

Keith didn’t laugh though. “Lance, this isn’t about a knife, this is about you standing up for yourself. You have to show them that you aren’t going to take this anymore. That’s the only way they’ll leave you alone.” Keith’s hand let go of Lance’s fingers, sliding along his palm to hold Lance’s hand properly. “You don’t deserve to be treated this way, and you don’t need a knife to be strong,” Keith asserted, meeting Lance’s eyes.

Very quickly, Lance was becoming convinced. All those times in his bedroom when Lance would practice finally getting the upper hand over his bullies. Every time he did, Lance would be transported to another world, he would taste the victory and the liberation on his tongue, so sweet and rewarding. Lance could imagine a million and one different ways that he could destroy Rolo, Nyma, and Beezer, but he just didn’t have the means to do so. He wanted to though. He’d always wanted to be free of their reign, to put them in their place and show them what it was like to feel the way he did all the time because of them.

All this time though, Lance had known he couldn’t because he would get demolished by the trio, a hit he would never recover from. That was what was keeping Lance in the place of a victim. If Lance made a move, he wouldn’t be powerful and in control, he would be hurt again, only worse. That was the way it was. Lance was stuck in a role he wanted so badly to escape. If he was tougher, bigger, stronger, faster, swifter, he might have been able to save himself.

Except, now Keith was telling him that he could do all the things he wanted to. He could take back his life and his safety. He could make them regret it all and get his revenge. He could fight back. The way Keith motivated him and talked him up was enough to make Lance feel like he could do it just as he was. It filled Lance with a feeling like he could mange his life, like he could handle Rolo, Nyma, and Beezer. Lance wanted to take his life into his own hands. He wanted to show the trio that tormenting him wasn’t going to slide anymore.

The only thing holding him back was that he had no way to protect himself after. “What if they come after me…” Lance muttered, averting his gaze.

Keith didn’t hesitate in his response, answering instantly, “I’ll be there.”

Lance’s eyes widened a little bit, surprised at the response, and he turned to face Keith again. Their hands were still connected and Lance couldn’t help but think about the fact that Keith had warmed his hand up for Lance using his creepy body heat powers. “What?” Lance squeaked.

“If they ever try to hurt you, I swear, Lance, I won’t let them. I will be there,” Keith assured.

The way he said it was so serious and determined that Lance actually found himself believing it. He knew it was ridiculous. There was no way that Keith could legitimately be there no matter what, there wasn’t even a way that Keith could know about it if it happened, but Lance believed him. Lance trusted him completely. Keith would be there. Lance could fight back, and Keith would be there to help him every time.

“Okay,” Lance whispered. Something within him solidified, a resolve he hadn’t known he had.

Keith smiled at him with a look of determination. His eyes glimmered like there was a secret between them, something that only they would know. Lance could feel the promise in the way that Keith never looked away from Lance and in the way he squeezed Lance’s hand gently. Lance squeezed back.

“Now, tell me about the Morse code again,” Keith said suddenly, shifting to look back at the exposed metal of the playground where Lance had been demonstrating how to tap and scrape for a dot or a dash. Keith never let their hands go though, he just lowered them to rest on Lance’s knee.

Smiling softly, Lance started up his explanation again, from the top.

 

◊ ◊ ◊

 

Lance entered the apartment door, closing it behind him. He swiftly ripped his scarf off and tossed it onto the coat rack, barely taking any time to unzip the coat he was wearing before attempting to yank it off. Lance tossed it at the rack as well, ignoring as it basically tumbled right to the floor, missing the hook entirely. His boots were laced up, but he kicked them off his feet, damaging the heels in the process. He left everything in a mess at the front door, promising himself that he would fix it later.

“Hey, _mamá!”_ Lance hollered at his mother as he rushed past the living room and kitchen.

 _“Hola,_ Lance, where are you off to in such a rush?” she asked suspiciously, sitting up a little bit in her seat.

Lance paused in the hallway, his feet shuffling around anxiously. “Uh…” he stammered. “Just… forgot to finish an assignment and it’s due on Monday, so I thought I’d get a jumpstart so that I have tomorrow to myself,” he fibbed, offering up an easygoing smile to placate his mother.

She furrowed her eyebrows. “Oh, okay.”

Lance nodded. _“Buenas noches, mamá!”_ Then he turned to hurry down the hallway to his room again.

The sound of his mother calling him back stopped him. “Wait, Lance!”

Skidding to a stop impatiently and walking backwards until he was able to see his mother again. “Yes?” His fingers itched and he bent his knees a little bit to do something with his energy. Every part of his body was screaming to hurry to his room, but he didn’t want to seem too eager, lest his mother check on him later to see if he really was doing a nonexistent worksheet.

“Did you clean everything up at the door? You were in a hurry, I know how you get,” she reprimanded.

Lance sighed heavily, but smiled at his mother anyway. “I’ll go do it,” he replied, then he spun around and raced back to the front door. As quickly as he could, Lance collected up his coat and scarf, hooking them on the rack properly. He placed his boots neatly against the wall. Once that was done, he hurried down the hall to his room, calling out a quick, “Done!” to his mother as he passed her. If she said anything else, Lance didn’t hear it, because he was already slamming his bedroom door closed.

For a second, he stood there, listening for any signs that his mother was coming to investigate Lance’s oddly excited behaviour, but he heard nothing. Lance grinned to himself, pressing a hand to his mouth to suppress his ecstatic grin. Pushing himself off the door, Lance hurried to get changed into his pyjamas, stripping out of his pants and putting on a clean shirt and shorts. He scrambled around to find his backpack, digging his notebook out of it along with a pencil. After practically leaping onto his bed, Lance shimmied along until he reached the wall that his bed was up against. Lance pulled his legs up under him, shuffling a little bit to ready himself. Then, with a deep breath of confidence, Lance raised his fist, and knocked on the wall.

Earlier on the playground, Lance had gotten everything set up with Keith. He would knock on the door to alert Keith that he was ready to try the Morse code, and so that Keith wouldn’t knock on the wrong wall. Keith had told him that he could knock whenever and wherever because Keith lived alone and didn’t have anything to hide. Lance had already figured that he lived on his own, but it was nice to have confirmation, especially since it made Lance’s plan so much more doable. Keith had insisted that Lance go up to his room and get ready while Keith stayed outside for a moment longer, that way they wouldn’t walk up together. Lance had thought that that was odd, but he didn’t question it too much, he just hurried to his room a quick as he was able.

And as Lance knocked, he heard movement from the other side of the wall. Quick, light footsteps jogged over to the wall, some more shuffling, and then a returning knock. Lance couldn’t help the way he grinned excitedly. Keith was on the other side of the wall, waiting for him to respond, speaking to him even when they weren’t outside. It was like getting Keith’s number, but something about it was so much more intimate and trusting. Lance felt a light tingle run up his spine.

Lance flipped through his book until he found where he had written everything down, just in case. He glanced down at his paper, planning out how to get his message across. He raised his finger to the wall. Scrape, tap, scrape, tap. Scrape, scrape, scrape. Tap, scrape, scrape, tap. Scrape, tap, scrape, scrape. Tap, tap, scrape, scrape, tap, tap. Lance had – hopefully – sent the message _“Copy?”_ over to Keith. Lance’s thought was that he would use radio jargon, although he wasn’t sure if Keith would catch onto that or not.

There was a long pause which Lance presumed to be Keith writing the message down and figuring out his response. Lance waited patiently.

Finally, there was an answer to Lance’s question coming from the other side of the wall. He startled a little bit, excited and jittery at the same time. Scrape, tap, scrape, tap. Tap, tap, tap, tap. Tap. Scrape, tap, scrape, tap. Scrape, tap, scrape. As Keith slowly worked out his message, Lance transcribed it on his sheet of paper, translating it as he went. _“Check,”_ Keith had said. Lance smiled again. Keith knew some radio jargon, and Lance’s communication system worked.

Quickly deciding on a message, Lance chuckled to himself. Then, he returned to the wall. Tap, scrape. Tap, scrape, tap, tap. Tap, tap. Tap. Scrape, tap. Tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap, scrape, scrape, tap, tap. _“Aliens?”_

Lance waited as Keith wrote everything out on his end. He couldn’t keep the smile off his face and he found himself leaning into the wall, resting his forehead against it. He imagined Keith’s face as he read the question out, probably amused and a little bit judgemental. The response came faster this time, right below Lance’s face, and he wrote everything down quickly. Tap, scrape, tap. Tap. Tap, scrape. Tap, scrape, tap, tap. Tap, scrape, tap, scrape, tap, scrape. _“Real.”_ Lance snorted at the fact that Keith had taken the time to add a period, solidifying his answer and illustrating just how serious he was. Lance already loved this form of communication. Although he couldn’t see Keith with all his mannerisms or hear his inflections and vernacular, he could still pick up on little Keith things like that.

They chatted for around an hour, not really saying too much as they were still trying to get the hang of how Morse code worked, but that wasn’t the important part. What was important was that Lance was happy. A lot of things in Lance’s life made him smile and made him laugh, but it had been a long while since Lance had found something that made him genuinely happy again. It wasn’t just Keith that made him happy, but it was everything that Keith was and everything that Keith offered him. A sense of belonging, camaraderie, strength. Keith instilled a feeling within Lance that he could only describe as a desire to live and to take back his life, a feeling that Lance hadn’t even noticed he was missing. Keith was beautiful, fearless, badass, wild, gentle, protective. Keith was so many things that all just turned Lance’s heart to mush.

And he couldn’t believe that he was talking to Keith through a wall. It just felt sort of surreal. Lance was happy.


	9. Candy Apple Red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the longest chapter in this fic!! The most content I've ever dropped at one time, who is stoked?? I know I am!  
> Also, I have some art that I made for the next chapter, and I'm going to try to finish it in time for Friday so that I can upload them at the same time, but it's lookin' like a close call here because I left it for so long. Fingers crossed, I suppose!

Ever since they established their means of communication through the wall, Lance would knock on the wall as soon as he was finished his homework. Keith never failed to answer. Lance wondered why it seemed that Keith was always home if he could hardly ever hear the guy wandering around, but it didn’t bother him too much. Perhaps Keith just knew when Lance would be home and was waiting to talk to him.

They had been conversing with each other through the wall for around two weeks. In those two weeks, they had gotten so much better at Morse code. It was to the point where Lance didn’t even need to use the paper to write Keith’s messages out, but he still needed the code next to him to check a letter every now and again. He wasn’t sure how it was on Keith’s end, but the responses were coming in faster so he could only assume the best.

In the time they had been talking to each other, they’d had longer and more in-depth conversations about things. Lance learned a lot more about Keith, like the fact that he had a tattoo on his upper arm, he could wolf-whistle without using his fingers, and he could speak several different languages. Lance had also shared his own fun facts with Keith, such as his ability to juggle, his love of all things space, and how he used to practice contortion.

The two of them still met up at the playground often, because as much as Lance loved talking to Keith through the wall and pretending it was the same as text, he also wanted to see Keith, to touch him, to look at him, to read him. Lance still wanted to physically and visually interact with Keith. It worked out too, because Keith didn’t seem like he was all too bothered. Most of the time, Keith would be there to meet Lance almost instantly, coming out of nowhere and sneaking up on him in that characteristic way that Keith often did. Lance didn’t even get startled anymore, always just expecting it. They would chat about whatever came to mind and they would laugh about things that weren’t even funny.

Keith still taught Lance how to solve the Rubik’s cube, and he was getting pretty good. He had it so close that he could almost taste the solution. Keith also taught Lance how to hold his knife properly, although he insisted that it wasn't all about the knife, Lance had to be strong physically, just in case he didn’t have his knife on him or couldn’t get to it. Throughout all their training, Keith always maintained that knives were a last resort.

As the two of them talked, Lance really came to know and understand Keith along with all the things that made him amazing which Lance hadn’t seen before. Keith had flaws, of course, Lance could see them too, but they didn’t feel like flaws. He was aggressive, but in a protective and just way, done with taking shit from people. He was sarcastic, but in an intriguing and teasing way that pulled Lance closer. Keith was graceless, not clumsy, but rather, assertive and brash, rushing into any situation so quickly, so tactlessly. And yet, Keith was so pussyfooted with people, dancing around social interactions and never knowing what to do, the complete opposite of how he was when it was just him against the world. Sometimes, Keith would disappear, not physically, but mentally. Lance wasn’t sure what Keith had seen or where he had been, but Keith seemed entirely capable of shutting down the outside world around him and just existing, a husk, an abandoned vessel for a worn-out mind. It worried and intrigued Lance, but he didn’t say anything about it, he just calmly called Keith back into reality and continued what they were doing.

Lance learned Keith’s mannerisms too, or at least, some of them. When Keith was bored or wasn’t sure what came next, be it in a conversation or otherwise, he would play with his ear. Tracing his fingers along the pinna and tugging lightly on the lobe, scraping at some of the skin along the fossa until it turned red, and bending the helix around, even occasionally pressing on the tragus. Keith didn’t even seem aware that he was doing it. Other times, when Keith was absently listening to Lance talk about something, he would run his thumb along his lips, press them back, and even pick at the skin on them. That one in particular really distracted Lance. Keith also kept his arms crossed over his chest a lot, casually, but also awkwardly, like he wasn’t positive on where his hands should be and what they should be doing.

In a lot of ways, Lance could really feel himself clicking with Keith and connecting, like two pieces of a puzzle. Not the same puzzle, but two pieces that fit together nonetheless. Everything about Keith felt right and safe. Lance could feel himself opening up again, trusting again, coming back to the charismatic, ebullient guy he used to be, and he loved how freeing it was. For the past few weeks that Lance had been talking to Keith, he had also been rushing home faster than ever before, finding an energy that he hadn’t known he could ever have in the first place. That was probably the only thing keeping him out of the way of Rolo, Nyma, and Beezer, but he knew that they would strike again, especially since his awful shiner was beginning to fade away.

That was exactly why, upon noticing the flyer, Lance had decided he was going to sign up for the afterschool strength training classes. They were only twice a week, but Lance felt like they could really make a difference. He had suggested it to Keith to see what his thoughts on it were, and Keith had been entirely ready to march to Lance’s school and sign Lance up himself. Lance had laughed at that, telling Keith there was time and he would do it the following day. That calmed Keith down, although he continued to encourage Lance that it was a great idea so he would be able to ‘knock Rolo down a leg.’ Lance had told him the phrase was ‘knock him down a peg,’ but Keith had just responded with a sly, “It won’t be when you’re done with him.”

Lance’s mother was fine with Lance going to strength training after school, if that was what he wanted to do, although she was worried about him getting home in the dark when it was over, especially since they still hadn’t caught that killer. Lance wondered if she was ever going to let that go or just keep bringing it up. Luckily, she told him to be safe and call her when he was leaving the school, otherwise she would be out looking for him all night. Lance had agreed, not wanting to cause his mother anymore grief than he already had.

The very next day at school, Lance had gone straight to the athletics office at lunch. He awkwardly glanced into the window, seeing that their teacher was in there, just sitting at his desk. Lance had never actually gone to talk to the guy outside of class, never being one for gym in the first place. He looked back at the door, squinting at the engraved plaque across the door; Mr. Holgersson. Lance sighed his nerves away before quickly knocking on the door. Mr. Holgersson stopped what he was doing to stare up at the door, then he smiled and motioned through the window for Lance to come in. Lance complied, entering the small, musty room cluttered with sports equipment and folders of paperwork.

“Hello! What can I do for you?” the teacher asked when Lance entered the room.

Lance took a moment to just sort of stare uncomfortably at Mr. Holgersson, not exactly sure how to ask about the strength training but also a little bit distracted by his accent. What was it? Scandinavian? No, maybe Norwegian? “Uh… Can I sign up for the strength training…?” he asked, kicking his heel against the toe of his other foot.

“Oh!” Mr. Holgersson replied, shifting around through the papers to find what he was looking for. After shuffling through a stack, he produced a sheet with a bunch of spaces for names and handed it to Lance. “Here is the sign-up sheet. Meetings are every Tuesday and Thursday, so don’t forget!” He offered Lance another smile, then continued on with whatever he was writing.

Lance stared down at the sheet, reading the other names off. He knew a few of the other kids who were on the list, but not well enough that he’d confidently call any of them a friend. There were quite a few open spaces, so Lance grabbed one of the pencils out of the little cup on the teacher’s desk and scribbled his name on one of the many lines. He leaned back, staring at his name there, telling himself that this was going to be a new chapter in his life, a chapter where he was able to stand up for himself and be happy. With that thought in mind, he put the pencil back in the cup and handed the sheet back to Mr. Holgersson.

“Thank you,” the man said. “I look forward to seeing you on Tuesday!”

“Yeah, thanks, you too,” Lance responded, reaching out to pull the door open again. This was going to be a turning point, Lance could feel it.

 

◊ ◊ ◊

 

“Keith!” Lance called out, stepping through the snow to reach the other.

Keith, who was sprawled out on his back over the playground, glanced over at the sound of Lance’s voice. His hair was splayed out around him, a stark contrast against the white of the snow which framed his body. Swiftly, Keith rolled over to the other side of the platform, twisting his body to lay on his stomach. He smiled lazily at Lance, his eyes lidded a little bit. “Did you sign up for strength training?” he asked, his voice strained from the way he stretched his upper body.

Lance snorted. “Wow, hello to you too, Keith!” Lance sarcastically greeted. He ignored the eye roll Keith gave him, continuing on, “What’s that? Oh! I’m doing well, _thank you for asking!”_ He touched a hand to his heart with mock feeling.

“Fine, I’ll bite,” Keith sighed, then, with much effort, he managed a comically fake smile. “Evening, Lance,” he addressed, “how are you today?”

Lance immediately dropped his cheerful demeanor and groaned, “Ugh, terrible! I fooled you earlier, I’m not doing well. I had an awesome idea while I was brushing my teeth, but it was so great that I choked. It’s a damn good thing I’m not a prostitute or something, because I started brushing my teeth so aggressively that I accidentally slipped, and deepthroated my damned toothbrush, and I nearly threw up into the sink.” Lance angrily glared off into the distance as he recalled the event.

Keith, not at all ready for that, heaved. He dropped his upper body back into the snow and laughed. His face scrunched up as he cackled, forcing him into a smile, and he clutched at his stomach. Lance couldn’t help the few laughs that escaped him just from watching Keith laugh and a wave of pride washed over him at knowing he was the cause of it.

Keith continued to titter while Lance finished his thought, “Anyway, that’s all in the past now! Keep moving forward, that’s what I always say. Have you ever seen Meet the Robinson’s? We should watch it sometime. Anyway, I did sign up for strength training; starts on Tuesday. Now, onto my incredible idea!”

After composing himself a little bit, Keith pushed himself back up, this time choosing to pull his legs up underneath him. “Right, right,” Keith agreed, waving his hand for Lance to continue, “let’s hear this amazing idea that you deepthroated a toothbrush for.” He grinned at the end, patiently waiting, although Lance could see his anticipation in the way he leaned forward.

Lance turned his head down the road mischievously, looking to Keith out of the corner of his eye. “Well, I know we always meet here and hang out, but what if – and hear me out, this is the important part – we go to the corner store and we hang out there instead?” Lance wiggled his eyebrows in an attempt to entice Keith.

Without any hesitation, Keith kicked his legs back out and over the edge of the platform. He pushed himself off, landing softly in the snow with his high-top sneakers. “Lead the way, then, Lance,” he offered, gesturing to the path with his hand, “because I didn’t actually know there even was a corner store…”

Lance grinned and glided past Keith. “I can’t believe you’ve lived here for months now and you still don’t know where the gas station is.”

Keith wandered alongside him, slamming his shoulder into Lance’s. “I don’t need to know where it is,” he defended.

“Don’t you have a car? Or a craving for shitty food to clog your arteries with?” Lance joked, smirking at him.

Keith snickered, “No to both of those.”

“What?!” Lance cried, turning the corner of the building with Keith. “That’s a lie! There’s no way you, of all people, don’t eat shitty gas station food!”

Keith stared over at him, furrowing his eyebrows and narrowing his eyes. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he interrogated.

“It means you’re wearing a short-sleeved shirt and rolled up jeans when it’s minus thirty-two out and you still agreed to come to the gas station with me, there’s clearly something wrong with you,” Lance pointed out, gesturing to the clothes Keith was wearing.

“I’m wearing a coat,” Keith argued. He lifted the piece of fabric off his body to show it to Lance, as though he hadn’t noticed it before.

Lance laughed, “That’s an ankle-length shawl and it’s doing nothing, Keith!”

Keith chuckled along with Lance. He threw his head back as he walked and stared into the sky. “Fuck you,” he muttered with amusement. Keith stuck his arms out as far as he could and sped up a little bit, letting his shawl trail out behind him like a cape. “I hope you choke on a Slim Jim!”

Chortling, Lance picked up the pace to walk at Keith’s side, but Keith wasn’t having it; he went faster. “Keith,” Lance tired to reason. That only made Keith start jogging away from Lance, never looking back. With a newfound determination, Lance raced toward Keith, his boots slapping against the pavement and alerting Keith, who broke out into a sprint. “You jackass!” Lance shouted, but Keith probably couldn’t hear it over how loud he was laughing. Keith’s shawl waved out behind him, a flag of victory in the wind. It blinded Lance’s view of Keith like the dust he was being left behind in.

As they were racing along, they passed a few other buildings, none of which were the gas station. The winter air bit at Lance’s nose and cheeks, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, still just racing after Keith. His hair whipped out behind him, exposing his forehead and ears to the cold. Keith’s melodic laughter echoed before him, intermingling with his own, and creating a symphony of happiness.

At the end of the road, the trail branched off into two directions, one going to the left and one continuing forward. “Fuck!” Keith exclaimed, slowing down. “Which way is it?!” he cried, still laughing and jittery from their race, not wanting to lose to Lance.

Lance barked out a laugh and sped up as much as he could, slamming directly into Keith, who screeched upon his impact. They tumbled backwards, Keith nearly falling over. Luckily, Lance caught him, holding him by the elbows and pulling him close. “You don’t even know where you’re going!” Lance wheezed.

Keith couldn’t even respond, too busy laughing and stumbling around in Lance’s hold. “Asshole! You wanted to go to the gas station in the middle of the night!” Keith yipped.

With a giggling smile, Lance gripped Keith’s shawl and guided him along down the road to the left. Keith complied, trailing along behind Lance. “Yeah, so follow me! If you get lost, I’m leaving you out here,” Lance told him, an amused tone to his voice.

Before Keith had a chance to answer, they turned down another street. The neon glowing sign of the 7 Eleven came into view, one of the green lights flickering sporadically. It made the darkness around them seem endless in comparison and the harsh lights of the gas station’s interior felt even more inviting. As Lance dragged Keith along through the parking lot, trying his best not to slip on the ice, he patted his pocket to make sure he hadn’t lost all his money in his race against Keith.

Lance grabbed the door handle, yanking it open and holding it for Keith. “After you,” he smirked, gesturing dramatically with his hand.

Keith snorted and stepped into the store, looking around at all the different displays next to the door. Lance walked in behind him, watching as he picked up a couple bags of beef jerky near the front, read them, then put them back down. Keith wandered away, seemingly concentrated as he studied the different snacks. Once he was at the end of the aisle, he glanced back over his shoulder to see if Lance was going to follow him, raised an eyebrow at him cockily, and disappeared behind a rotating rack of chips. He spun it around as he passed it.

It occurred to Lance, as he grinned and followed Keith, that he had never see Keith under direct light. That in itself was a strange thing to point out, but it was true. Never had Lance actually seen Keith inside of a building or in the daylight, it was always outside at night. He was also starting to realize that Keith looked even more beautiful when he wasn’t relying on his mediocre night-vision to see the boy. Fuck, he’d follow that boy off a cliff, around a gas station shelf was no issue.

On the other side, Keith was swiping his hand over every bag of candy, glancing at the names before shifting over to the opposite shelf.

“See anything good?” Lance asked, wandering over to stand next to him.

Keith hummed, lifting a Push Pop off the shelf to spin it around. “Nope,” he answered.

“I used to love those!” Lance exclaimed. He quickly read over all the flavours of the Push Pops on the shelf, searching for his favourite.

“They’re so gross,” Keith argued, placing his back on the shelf.

Lance laughed, “I liked to pretend it was lipstick and smear it all over my lips, but then I’d just be all sticky.”

Keith moved down the shelf, chuckling at Lance’s reminiscing. “I just bit them off and chewed them,” he mused.

Lance stood up straight, forgetting all about Push Pops for a moment as he glared at Keith’s back. “What kind of heathen are you?” he hissed, deeply offended that Keith would even have the nerve to try such a thing.

Keith turned around, a flat look plastered across his face. “The kind that eats their food instead of playing dress-up with it,” he snarked. “They always made me sick though…” Then, without another word, he disappeared around the corner.

Lance hmphed, then quickly jogged after Keith. Right as he rounded the corner, he nearly crashed into the boy. Lance startled back, not at all expecting Keith to be right there again, but Keith didn’t seem at all bothered by the near collision.

“Lance, look.” Keith shoved a bag of something into Lance’s hand.

Looking down, Lance inspected it, flipping it over in his hands and crinkling the packaging. It held a bunch of candy hearts with messages on them, the kind that only showed up around Valentine’s Day. In the middle of November, Lance found this to be very odd. He squinted at the package and tilted his head. “Are these the little hearts that say ‘I heart you,’ and ‘you’re cute,’ on them?” he asked, confused.

“Better,” Keith informed him with a smirk. Leaning a little bit closer, Keith pointed his finger at the little yellow banner in the upper left corner. It read, NOT YOUR AVERAGE CANDY HEARTS! “They’re joke candy hearts, so they say shitty stuff,” Keith explained.

Slowly, a grin worked its way over Lance’s face and he shoved them under his armpit. “We’re getting them,” he decided. “That, and the stuff I actually came here for!” Lance moved around Keith to open one of the fridge doors. He held it with his leg, making sure the candy hearts didn’t fall with one hand, and grabbing his blue bottle of Jones with the other hand. Once he had everything, he turned to Keith. “What do you want?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Keith answered instantly, no hesitation in the way he said it. His arms were rested across his chest, folded up as he watched Lance.

“Are you sure?” Lance tried again, tilting his head to the side.

It wasn’t that he was trying to impress Keith with some gas station snacks or anything, but he did want to get Keith something, at least for the reason that he wouldn’t be eating alone. Lance wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he really did want to take Keith out on a date. Not that gas station food was a date, because it wasn’t, Lance had some ounce of class, but Keith didn’t seem like the type to want a big, fancy date. Besides, Keith hadn’t even agreed to a date with Lance, and he probably wouldn’t, so Lance had to improvise. Maybe he couldn’t buy Keith a lovely, romantic dinner at a restaurant with a dress code, but he could buy him a pack of gummy worms or a bag of dill pickle chips if that was all Keith wanted.

Yet, there Keith was, once again, declining Lance’s offer for some gas station food, free of charge. Lance couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed. “Not hungry,” Keith simply said. With a shrug, Keith spun on his heel and began heading toward the front counter to wait for Lance.

One deep breath in, and one deep breath out. Lance nodded his head to himself, them followed Keith along. The lady running the cash register stared at Lance impatiently, urging him to hurry the fuck up with just her eyes. Keith leaned against the counter, also watching Lance, but with a look of contentment. Lance smiled at him, although it felt a little forced. He mentally willed Keith to pick something he wanted before Lance finished paying for his two items, but Keith didn’t make any moves.

Lance placed the Jones on the counter, hardly even setting it down before the lady was snatching it up to ring it through. He placed the candy hearts down next, frowning at the quickness with which she grabbed those too. She read the total out to him, a muddle of noise as she spoke too fast. Lance didn’t even catch the total, but he threw a ten-dollar bill onto the counter, knowing it wouldn’t be more than that. She swiped that one up too. After retrieving his change, a bag, and his receipt, Lance headed out the door. This time, Keith held the door open.

“Wanna sit on the curb and read the hearts out?” Lance asked. He wasn’t ready to go home yet and he was sure that Keith wasn’t either just by the light in his eyes.

Keith smiled lazily. “Of course, I do,” he replied. Before Lance could say anything else, Keith strutted toward the curb underneath the glowing sign, his shawl billowing out behind him. He settled onto the rise of concrete, sticking his legs out despite the snow.

Lance lowered himself next to Keith, a little bit more conscious of how cold it was since he didn’t have nerve damage like Keith obviously did, because what the fuck, Keith? Luckily, the florescent 7 Eleven sign was obnoxiously bright enough bearing down on them that Lance could easily read the hearts. He shoved his Jones into the snow and ripped open the pack of hearts. Shoving his hand inside, Lance picked the first one his fingers grabbed hold of. He pulled it out and turned it around, inspecting the shitty, engraved writing. It was difficult to read the red letters against the pink heart, but he managed.

 _“’You’ll do,’”_ Lance read. He immediately snorted and Keith barked a laugh next to him.

“And they say romance is dead,” Keith commented, smiling. Lance ate his heart as Keith reached into the bag. He stared hard at the orange heart. _“’You’re only a two,’”_ he chuckled. Lance’s laughter was renewed, even as Keith handed the heart over to him and said, “Here, this one’s for you.”

Lance took the heart, popping it into his mouth. He pulled out another heart. _“’Fuck you,’”_ Lance recited.

Keith gave him a raised eyebrow. “It doesn’t say that,” he groaned. Keith scooted a little closer, leaning into Lance’s personal space to read it. “What?!” he shouted, reading the line ‘fuck you’ clear as day on the heart. Lance couldn’t help the burst of laughter that escaped him, even as it echoed around the parking lot. Keith grumbled a bit, but yanked out another heart. “This one has your name on it,” he muttered.

“What?” Lance grabbed the heart out of Keith’s hands, squinting at the red lettering across the blue candy. ‘Bastard,’ it read. Lance gave Keith a flat look, causing him to nearly choke on his own laughter. “Charming,” Lance said dryly. He jammed them both in his mouth, freeing his hand to pull out another. He exhaled a puff of air, almost a laugh but not quite. “This one just says, _‘no.’”_

Keith smiled wryly. “I wrote that one,” he joked.

Lance handed Keith the heart, realizing that Keith hadn’t eaten a single one yet.

“Nah, you have it,” Keith told him, waving his hand at the candy.

Lance furrowed his eyebrows at Keith. “Are you okay?” Lance asked. “You haven’t eaten anything…” Lance pointed out, worry pooling in the pit of his stomach as Keith refused some more food.

“I just don’t want any,” Keith insisted. There was an edge to his tone that suggested Lance had crossed a line by asking at all.

Lance slowly retracted his hand, curling into himself without even meaning to. The worry exploded, mixing and melding into dejection, regret, hurt, and some emotions he couldn’t identify. Lance smiled, a fake one that distorted his features, and his heart sped up. He suddenly wished he had never taken Keith to the gas station, had never even suggested it in the first place. Lance wasn’t even sure why he was internally freaking out so much over this, but he couldn’t stop the way a cold sweat wracked his body.

“O-Oh… Okay…” Lance muttered, still smiling tightly.

Keith must have noticed, because his eyes widened a fraction and he stared at Lance for too long. “Don’t look at me like that…” he whispered, pained.

Lance glanced away, trying his best not to let the panicked feeling slip through. All he could think was that Keith didn’t want to be there with him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean…” he trailed off.

Next to him, he could feel as Keith shuffled toward him. Lance instinctively watched him out of the corner of his eye. Keith stared at the bag, his eyebrows pinched. He swallowed heavily, his throat bobbing. Then, after a deep breath, Keith reached into the bag and quickly shoved a heart into his mouth, chewing it and wincing. “Thank you, Lance,” he mumbled around the heart.

“You didn’t have to eat it…” Lance told him, staring sympathetically at the way Keith scrunched his nose up and curled his lip inwards.

Keith grabbed Lance’s arm then, a firm and meaningful hold. “Thank you. Really, Lance, I mean it.” He said it with so much conviction that Lance couldn’t help but believe him, even with the twitches of disgust Keith had made. His violet eyes shone, never leaving Lance’s face, and Lance’s heart continued to rapidly beat, but this time for a different reason.

“Alright…” he awkwardly nodded, “…you’re welcome…” He smiled at Keith. Keith smiled back.

Then Keith was no longer smiling. His lips were clenched together and his eyes were bulging out of his head. Keith lurched a bit, startling even himself. Before Lance could comprehend what was happening, Keith was clamping a hand against his mouth and launching himself off the curb. He stumbled as fast as he could to the chain-link fence that was bordering the property, his feet tripping in the snow as he hurried. Lance could see him convulse again. Keith’s hand grasped the fence and that was when it connected in Lance’s mind, right as Keith retched and vomited into the snow next to the fence.

“Oh my god,” Lance burst out. He leaped to his feet, forgetting about the candy hearts and the bottle of Jones in favour of hurrying to Keith’s side. Lance wasn’t really sure what to do though, standing around and flailing his arms like an idiot. Normally, he would have tried rubbing the person’s back to help them out, but Keith, who had heard him approach, waved an urgent hand at Lance to go away and not come closer.

Keith continued to empty his stomach, and Lance continued to wait it out. The noise and smell didn’t bother him, although they usually would have, he was just so worried about Keith. With a few more heaves, Keith finished, sagging in on himself. He turned, gasping for breath as he wandered back towards Lance. No room left for debate about it, Lance hurried halfway to meet Keith, pulling him into a hug and smoothing his hand across Keith’s back.

“I told you that you didn’t have to eat them,” Lance scolded. He rested his chin on Keith’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Keith breathed. He buried his face into Lance’s neck and Lance could smell the bile on him.

Lance’s eyes trailed through the snow to where Keith had thrown up. It was almost entirely red and liquid. For a moment, Lance thought it was from the heart or a cherry soda Keith had downed earlier, but then it hit him like a ton of bricks. That was blood. That was _a lot_ of blood.

“Holy shit, Keith,” the words tumbled from Lance’s mouth. He stared on, horrified. “You threw up blood.” Lance pulled away from the hug as best he could, but Keith whined, pulling him back in and pressing his face back to where it was.

“Yeah,” Keith agreed easily, still in the same tone as the last time.

Lance stared down at the boy’s black hair, although the angle was awkward. His fingers flexed protectively on Keith’s back, panic setting in again. “I have to call the police,” he mumbled.

Keith’s body instantly stiffened and his nails, like claws, dug into Lance’s arms. Even through the fabric of his winter coat, Lance could feel Keith’s fingernails. _“No,”_ Keith sternly hissed, his voice a raspy growl. Lance recognized that voice. It was the same one he had used when he had told Lance to stand up for himself, the dark and commanding one.

“I’m okay now,” Keith added, his voice softening marginally, as if he had suddenly realized that he had gotten too intense. “I’m alright, Lance, I just… Can we go back…?” Keith was slowly melting into Lance’s arms as he spoke. His voice shifted, no longer a threatening snarl, but rather, a gentle, melodic tone. Every word getting quieter and quieter, as though he was falling asleep as he spoke.

Lance hugged Keith, glancing to the puddle of blood again. “Alright… Yeah, sure we can…” Lance agreed. A concern unlike anything he had ever felt washed over him. Everything about the situation was off and wrong, but he never felt unsafe or in danger. Lance couldn’t shake the feeling that Keith getting sick was Lance’s own fault, even if he hadn’t known that Keith would react so violently. Keith seemed to have known though, and he still ate one, just because Lance was insecure. Something about that was even more worrying, and yet somehow sweet, at the same time.

With a sad smile, Lance guided Keith through the snow so they could pick up the Jones and the hearts, then he helped walk Keith back to their apartment building. Keith swayed here and there, his head bobbing and his eyes drooping. Every now and then, he would groan and grab his stomach, but he never threw up again. Lance felt guilty, muttering apologies to Keith as they went. Once they got to the apartment, Lance also helped Keith up the stairs, which Keith thanked him for, and he watched as Keith stumbled into his own room next door to Lance. He continued to stand there, just staring at the door, until he made his way back to his own home.

That night, there was no reply when Lance tapped on their connected wall, but Lance waited for awhile anyways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This morning's chapter was brought to you by the fact that my father woke me up at 6:00 am because he was blending ice in the blender, and I was able to get up sooner to post this.


	10. Ruby Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guess who awoke to melodic ice-in-blender sounds again :):):):):):)

Alright, so, Lance wasn’t expecting strength training to be a walk in the park, but he also didn’t think it would take so much effort to lift the damn weights. He knew they were meant to challenge him, that was the point, but he couldn’t lift them very well.

Lance struggled to press the bar into the air, bringing it back down to barely touch his chest. Huffing a breath and steeling his resolve, Lance forced the bar back up. Mr. Holgersson’s hands hovered near the bar, just in case Lance started to drop it, but he was letting Lance do it on his own otherwise. Earlier, he had told Lance that getting into the swing of strength training took awhile, it wasn’t something that came naturally. He had explained that the feeling of the bar in his hands and the weights on the end would be awkward until he had done it enough that it became second nature, but Lance still felt stupid lifting a bar with hardly any weight on it and nearly dropping it or tipping it over.

With another push of air, Lance pressed the bar above him. He could feel it in his arms as they shook and he smiled a little bit, breathless. Even if it was slow going at first, Lance knew that he would get stronger eventually. It wasn’t instantaneous, he knew that. He wasn’t going to see results after one rep with the bar, but that didn’t deter him. It also didn’t quell the constant excitement that urged him to go check his muscles in the mirror whenever he got a second wind. Lance would be able to increase the amount he could bench-press, slowly but surely. As long as he practiced, ate right, and didn’t give up, he could be strong.

Practicing wasn’t an issue, especially since the afterschool strength training club gave him an opportunity to improve his body. It was easy, safe, and free, so there wasn’t an obstacle there.

Eating right hadn’t ever been too much of a problem for Lance. His mother was dead-set on feeding her son the best meal she could give to him, that way he would grow up healthy. She had always been that way, but it was now more than ever that Lance was really grateful for it.

Giving up wasn’t going to happen either, Lance was positive. He had tons of incentive to build his strength, all coming from different people who encouraged him, whether they knew it or not. The biggest person to motivate Lance, was Lance himself. He wanted to be strong, and that was enough of a reason to go out and work at it. If Lance wanted something hard enough, then he had a solid chance, that was what he had always believed and what his mother had always taught him.

His next biggest motivator was Keith. The one who had encouraged him to sign up for the strength class and had encouraged him in everything he had done since they had met. Keith was always there for him. Even when he wasn’t there physically, Lance knew that Keith had his back, and he still fully trusted that Keith _would_ be there if he ever got into trouble. Lance wasn’t sure how, but he knew that Keith would come. Keith had only ever wanted Lance to be safe. To give up on a step towards that safety would be like giving up on Keith; something that Lance could never do. He really cared about Keith.

Other motivators were Rolo, Nyma, and Beezer. Lance had never been a violent person, but he wanted to be able to sock a hole right through Rolo’s face. He hoped one day he would be able to achieve that, which was a good enough reason to keep pressing the bar upwards.

His mother was another. She was always so heartbroken when Lance came home beaten up and broken down. She didn’t deserve to feel that way just as much as Lance didn’t.

Mr. Holgersson was a motivator. He was actually a literal motivator.

“You can do it, Lance!” Mr. Holgersson praised, counting as Lance neared fifty. “Keep going!”

Lance couldn’t help but smile. It really did help when someone was right there to cheer you on.

Lance guided the bar back down, his arms weary and aching. He thought about his mother’s smiling face and how she would give anything to protect him. He pressed the bar up.

“Forty-eight!”

He brought it down again, huffing. He thought about Rolo’s dumb face, how good it would feel to knock a couple of the guy’s teeth down his throat and shut him up for good. Furrowing his eyebrows in concentration, Lance thrust the bar back into the air.

“Forty-nine!”

One last time, Lance let the bar slowly drop to his chest. He thought about Keith, and how proud he would be to hear that Lance had done a full fifty on his first day of weight training. Lance gave one, final, heaving shove, and raised the bar as far up as his arms would let him.

“Fifty!” Mr. Holgersson took the bar from Lance’s exhausted arms and placed it into the holders. He stood back and clapped. “Well done, Lance!”

Lance laughed, winded and weary, “Thanks, Mr. Holgersson.” He wiggled out from underneath the bar, trying his best to lift himself on his arms but struggling with how drained he felt. His muscles were tight in his arms, and Lance imagined that it was a good sign, no matter how weak and sore they would be the following day. He rubbed his arms, massaging the tender areas.

“Yes! Now, go home and rest your arms so you’ll be ready for Thursday!” he told him, giving a small thumbs-up as he did.

“Alright! See you then, and I’ll be ready!” Lance called as he stood up.

He had changed into his gym outfit so that he wouldn’t sweat into all his clothes, meaning he had to change back before he left. As Lance headed to the locker room, he huffed a laugh, giddy from the progress he had made. He couldn’t wait to get home and tell Keith all about it. Lance couldn’t help but wonder how much Keith could lift. Maybe one day, Lance would be stronger than Keith and he would be able to friendly-brag about it to Keith. Or better yet, maybe one day, Lance would be able to properly lift Keith. What if Keith could lift Lance now? That would be a lot more attractive than Lance was willing to admit. He forced himself to stop that train of thought before it derailed anymore.

As Lance leaned into the locker room door, forcing it open with his shoulder rather than his weak arms, he could feel his face heating up with an obvious red. Hopefully, anyone who saw him would just think that it was a result from his physical exertion and not from any impure thoughts he may or may not have been having regarding a certain neighbour. But, no one was around. That was to be expected, considering it was the end of the school day and the only reason anyone would still be there was an extra curricular activity or extra help.

Lance headed to the locker in the back section of the room, the one he always used since it was so far back that no one would notice him. Except, when Lance got close enough to really see it, he froze instantly. His blood ran cold as he stared at the open door. He had locked it. He knew that he had locked it, hadn’t he…? Did he lock it? Did someone force it open? Lance cautiously stepped closer, the clacking of his shoes against moist tile echoing off the walls and ringing in his ears.

Inside the open locker, Lance could see that his stuff was still there. He heaved a sigh of relief. Although, his heart was still pounding inside of his throat as he began grabbing his clothes from the little locker. His hands shook. Shirt was still there, phone was still there, backpack was still there, books were still there, boots were still there, coat was still there, gym bag was still there. Yeah. That was everything. Good.

Wait…

Lance’s eyes widened in horror.

Fuck. His pants.

He dropped his backpack to the floor in a heap and immediately scanned the room. Then, he marched through each row of lockers, finding nothing. He jogged a little faster, heading to the back area where the washrooms and showers were, right by the door to the pool. His mind was reciting, _No, no, no, no, no, no,_ over and over again like a mantra. As he entered the bathroom area, Lance saw them. He paused again and a heavy sigh of resignation washed over him. They were shoved as deep into the urinal as someone could shove a pair of pants.

He wandered closer, his feet dragging across the floor. “Please, be clean…” he muttered to himself. Lance stopped in front of it. They looked wet. He didn’t want to touch them. Cringing, Lance sniffed the air. Piss.

He groaned, tilting his head back to stare at the stained ceiling. “God, what did I do to deserve this?” he asked to the roof, suddenly feeling even more exhausted than he was before. Then, with the jerky movements of a whiny teenage being forced to clean their room, Lance trudged back to his locker to grab the plastic bag he used for his winter boots.

Once he was back in front of the urinal, he managed to pinch the pants with his fingernails, grimacing and screeching the entire time as he forced them into the bag. “Ack! What the fuck?! Why, why, why?!” he bemoaned. Lance quickly tied it up and bolted over to a nearby bench to set them down. He instantly washed his hands after. “Why are Rolo, Nyma, and Beezer literally the shittiest humans alive?! I don’t know, but I hope they all slip down a cheese grater slide and land in a kiddie pool of lemon juice!” he shouted, mostly just trying to distract himself from what he had touched.

Grumbling the entire time, Lance made his way back to his locker and put his shirt on, followed by his coat. He stared blankly down at the blue gym shorts he was wearing. They barely reached his mid thigh. It was fucking freezing outside. Piss pants, or shorts. Lance had to make a decision. Sighing, Lance patted his thighs. “Guess I’m rocking the booty shorts home tonight,” he joked, not really feeling it, but forcing himself to smile anyway.

After collecting all his stuff and grabbing the bag of piss pants again, Lance plodded his way through the school to the front door. The draft in the school was bad enough, he couldn’t even begin to image the winter air outside. Lance shivered just thinking about it. He stopped in front of the doors, peeked out the window, and nearly started crying. “Alright,” he said to himself, “I am better than this. Keith practically marches around in the snow with just his boxers on, I can do this. One for the Keithy, two for the snow, three to get fucked, and four to go!” Lance yelled at the end. He all but whipped the door open and raced out into the falling snow.

Almost instantaneously, he shrieked. The wind roared by, causing all the hairs on Lance’s legs to stand up. He started running along the path, praying he didn’t slip and make everything even worse for himself. The bag with his pants in it shook violently as he raced along. Between his backpack and his coat, Lance couldn’t run very gracefully, bouncing up and down as he hurried along, but he tried his best. Lance’s legs were nothing if not long, and he took some big strides on his sprint home. The entire time, Lance repeated quietly to himself, “Please, don’t slip. Please, don’t get shanked by a killer. Please, don’t die of hypothermia in the woods.”

Lance’s legs were numb and red beyond recognition by the time he raced through the gate to the apartment complex, and he was sure he was going to get an earful from his mother.

 

◊ ◊ ◊

 

Lotor stared out at the path, waiting. He knew that he wouldn’t see what he was looking for, but he also didn’t want to accidentally miss it if what he was looking for did happen across the trail. It wasn’t going to be any different from the last couple of days though. Lotor had been glaring for quite a while. Ever since Narti’s disappearance – and murder, although the police denied the evidence for such a thing – Lotor hadn’t been able to sleep very well. Rather than sleep, he would wake up and sit by the window, watching the trail. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for though, it wasn’t like a killer would be obvious to spot.

“Why would anyone hurt Narti…?” he muttered to the window angrily.

The rage that scraped at his chest and burned at his throat was unbearable, even more so at night. In the day, he could almost feel a little bit normal while he sat at the café with Acxa, Zethrid, and Ezor. When he came home, however, it lingered and hovered over him; that feeling of everything being wrong and empty. He couldn’t just sit around and do nothing while Narti was still missing.

Lotor clenched his fists, squeezing his arms as he leaned against the window, his arms crossed over his chest. “She is the sweetest, nicest, and gentlest people I’ve ever met, you can’t just… take her away,” Lotor hissed at the window, directing his message to the killer. No one answered, obviously. He could see part of his reflection in the glass, furious and distorted with grief.

“I’ll find you,” he added. His voice was low and his eyes were murderous. “I’ll find you and I’ll rip you to shreds for what you did,” Lotor threatened.

And he meant every word.

 

◊ ◊ ◊

 

Laying in bed, Lance stared at the wall. It was well past the time when he was supposed to be asleep, but he wasn’t tired at all. He had tried knocking on the wall to see if Keith was up, but he never got a response. There weren’t footsteps either, so Keith wasn’t even around. Still, Lance was bored and cold, wrapped up tightly in his bed with the blankets up to his neck. His hand stuck out from the covers, sliding along the wall connecting his apartment to Keith’s, but not loud enough that it would make noise. Lance sighed, watching his finger twirl around on the wallpaper.

Suddenly, there was a rapid knock. Lance startled. He listened again, confused. The knock happened again, quick and… not coming from the wall? Lance squinted in confusion.

“Lance!” a loud whisper called.

Eyes widening and realization washing over him, Lance sat straight up in bed. He stared at the window, shell-shocked. Crouched on his ledge, just on the other side of the window, was Keith. His fingers were poised and ready to knock again but his face lit up when he noticed that Lance was awake.

“Lance, hey,” Keith greeted through the glass.

“What the fuck?” Lance muttered, not really sure what else he could say.

Keith tilted his head and furrowed his eyebrows, probably trying to determine what Lance was saying, but Lance was so distracted by the fact that Keith was outside his window. He lived on the third floor. “Can I come in?” he asked softly.

Lance’s mind kicked into gear then. Keith was hanging off the side of the building, and was he covered in blood? Why was Keith bleeding? Was Keith okay? “Uh,” Lance frantically looked to the window latch, seeing it flipped to the side, “the window’s open.”

Keith didn’t make any move to push it open, just huddled there, staring at Lance. His face dropped into a flat expression, unimpressed with that answer. “You have to say I can come in,” he insisted through the unlocked window.

Staring at him incredulously, Lance gestured to the window vaguely. “How did you even get up here?” he asked, groggy and confused.

“Can I come in or not?” Keith prodded.

“Yes! Come in before you fall, Keith, oh my god!” Lance nearly shouted.

Before Lance could even finish his sentence, Keith was shoving the window open, accidentally knocking over some of Lance’s homework which was on the sill. He leaped down through the window, and Lance noticed that Keith was wearing nothing on his feet, which were wet and covered in snow, leaving prints on the carpet when he entered. From his position outside the window, it had looked like he was wearing pants, but as Keith stood tall in his room, Lance realized that they were shorts. His grey shirt, which was covered in blood around the chest, was what caught Lance’s attention most though.

“Keith, you’re bleeding,” Lance pointed out.

“It’s not mine,” Keith casually informed him. He stripped off the t-shirt and dropped it onto the floor next to his footprints.

Lance twisted his mouth to the side and crinkled his nose up, processing what Keith had just said. “I’m sorry, what?” he blurted, trying to hide his concern and slight fear. “It’s not your blood? Whose blood is it?”

Keith stopped what he was doing and glanced over at Lance. They maintained eye contact in the dark, Keith’s face a mixture of pain and fear. “Okay, well… it is my blood…” he awkwardly explained.

“Uh…” Lance articulated, “…it’s not yours but it is yours…?”

Keith glared at the wall, and if Lance didn’t know any better, he would have expected the wall to burst into flames at how hard Keith was glaring. “It’s mine, but not from today,” he told Lance. That didn’t exactly explain anything. At all. In any way. Slouching in on himself, Keith turned his gaze away. “Don’t look,” he mumbled.

“What?” Lance breathed. Then Keith was untying his shorts and sliding them down his legs, causing Lance to squeak at the sudden action and dive under his covers.

There was a shifting on the other side of the bed, the covers being lifted. Lance rolled over toward the wall, making sure he kept his eyes on it as Keith settled into the bed next to him. The blanket was placed back down, covering Keith and Lance as they shared the small bed. Lance shuffled around nervously. He wasn’t expecting a naked and bloody Keith to come leaping through his window on this night, and although it was all very weird, Lance wasn’t really complaining. He just wasn’t sure how to react to this situation at all.

“Keith?” Lance called out gently.

“Yeah, Lance?” Keith replied, his voice so close.

Lance swallowed, suddenly much more nervous than he had been before. “How did you get up here?” he asked.

“I flew,” Keith answered simply. Keith did that a lot; answer questions absurdly with enough casual conviction that Lance was almost tempted to believe the ridiculous lies.

Lance rolled his shoulder over to stare at the ceiling. “You flew?” he repeated, an air of skepticism clear in his voice.

“Yeah,” Keith replied.

“Oh, yeah, of course. I should have known,” Lance sarcastically commented.

Keith scoffed, “Well, it’s kind of a half-jump, sort of thing.”

Lance snorted, rolling over even more so that he could just barely see Keith out of the corner of his eye, “Because that’s so much better. A half-jump.”

“Shut up,” Keith mumbled defensively. “You wanted to know how I got up here, that’s how.”

Lance snickered to himself. One of his legs instinctively made its way over to the other side of the bed to stretch, but Lance immediately regretted it the second his foot tapped against Keith’s bare leg. Normally, Lance would have been embarrassed about the fact he had kicked Keith, which would have led to him fully realizing that Keith was in his bed in the first place, and that would have been an entirely new reason to get embarrassed. Except, none of that happened because Lance was so focused on the fact that Keith was _freezing._

Lance yanked his foot back. “You’re cold as ice, Keith!” he complained.

“Sorry, I forgot about that,” Keith apologized quietly.

He scooted closer in the bed, startling Lance. After a moment, Lance realized that Keith was radiating warmth. Literally, he was like a human-heater suddenly. That weird trick Keith did with his body temperature always freaked Lance out a bit, but in this case, he was thankful for it. Lance’s bed wasn’t ever warm enough. Lance curled toward Keith, smiling at the feeling of Keith’s body heat.

Lance was almost distracted enough by the warmth that Keith was offering to forget an urgent question that had passed through his mind moments ago. Luckily, he wasn’t. Peaking over at Keith over his shoulder, Lance asked, “Are you… wearing anything…?”

Keith hummed out, “My boxers.” Then after a beat of silence, whispered, “Is that no good?”

“No, it’s fine,” Lance assured. His heart had a nice little stutter in it when Keith answered the question, but that was alright, Lance was fine. It was really better for everyone that Lance didn’t think about how close Keith was in his bed, warm and lacking clothing, softly whispering into the dead silence of the room while the snow fell outside.

“Hey, Keith?” Lance prodded after a couple minutes of silence.

Keith grunted once to let Lance know that he was listening.

“Why are you here?” he asked, his voice echoing in the empty room.

“Did… you not want me to be…?” Keith softly questioned. He sounded small and his voice was muffled by the pillow.

Lance could see the top of Keith’s hair out of the corner of his eye and he watched it shift, listened to the way Keith shuffled around next to him. “I want you to stay,” he blurted out.

Keith didn’t answer, letting the words hang in the air. Lance stared at the ceiling, stared at the marks that were made there from various other tenants. He waited.

“Then… I’ll stay,” Keith breathed, barely loud enough for Lance to pick up on, his words nearly getting swallowed by the cacophony of Lance’s beating heart.

Lance released a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. “How long?” he asked, his heart still thundering in his chest.

Keith muttered, “As long as you’ll have me.”

Lance huffed a laugh then, rolling all the way over this time so that he was facing Keith in the bed. His black bangs were pushed up and out of the way, exposing his weary face. Keith’s eyes, violet and soft, stared at Lance through slits as he struggled to keep his eyes open. Half of his face was hidden by the pillow, but Lance hadn’t ever seen anyone looking more beautiful. He smiled at Keith. Keith smiled back.

“Are we still talking about the same thing?” he wondered aloud.

Keith snorted and closed his eyes all the way, the smile never leaving his face. “That is the question,” he mumbled, his voice airy and tired.

“If I asked you to leave this town with me, would you?” Lance pondered. He wasn’t sure why he asked it. Lance’s late-night thoughts were getting away from him, and there was something enticing and exciting about the night.

“Do I seem like someone who lives in one place long?” Keith answered. He was groggy and exhausted, but he was clearly attempting to answer Lance’s questions.

Lance chuckled, “I guess not. You seem like a wanderer. You’re a transient, that’s what you are.” Lance grinned at Keith, although the other boy couldn’t see it.

“Fight off,” Keith mumbled, his voice slurring with exhaustion.

Lance frowned and his eyebrows drew together in confusion. “What?” he dumbly asked.

Keith snorted, a smile pulling its way across his tired lips as he pressed his face farther into the pillow. One of his eyes cracked open and glanced over to stare at Lance with a foggy glaze clouding his vision. “Fight me and fuck off…” Keith giggled, high off his fatigue. “I don’t know what I did.”

Lance snickered, pressing closer to Keith in the bed. He tried to supress the laughter so he wouldn’t be too loud, but it peeled out of him in a constant stream. A particularly loud snort escaped him and he lurched forward to muffle the noise in Keith’s shoulder. By this point, Keith couldn’t help but chuckle along with Lance, his laughter becoming more and more pronounced as it played off of Lance’s.

“At least you didn’t say ‘fuck me,’” Lance forced out through his giggling, the words ghosting across Keith’s skin.

Keith guffawed, quickly smashing his face into the pillow to quiet himself. “Shut up, I’m tired,” Keith defended, but the bite of his words was numbed by the way his eyes crinkled and his mouth seemed etched into a permanent smile. Small, deep titters tumbled from his mouth, fueling Lance’s laughter more.

“We should go to sleep,” Lance suggested, although it was obvious by his chortling that he wasn’t ready to fall asleep just yet.

“Goodnight, Lance,” Keith breathed, letting his eyes close fully this time. He curled up closer to Lance, who still had his face pressed into Keith’s shoulder.

Lance hummed, smiling as he watched Keith, “Night, Keithy.” He closed his own eyes, happily content to be near Keith. His bed wasn’t cold anymore, Keith’s body heat keeping him safe and warm. As Lance drifted off to sleep, he could hear Keith’s evened breathing next to him, slow, gentle, and melodic. It was nice, and for once, Lance didn’t feel worried. It lulled Lance and soon, he was gone too.

 

◊ ◊ ◊

 

Everything was cold when Lance woke up. Grumbling, Lance forced his eyes open, ignoring the pain caused by the light streaming through his window. The freezing air washed over him again, irritating him and chilling him to the bone. Lance frowned, squinting out into his room. Why was the window open? Who the fuck opened it? It was freezing now. Lance groaned, yanking the covers over his head. He had to get up for school soon, but that didn’t mean his room had to be cold when he did.

Suddenly, everything came rushing back to Lance, everything about his night with Keith sharing the bed. He immediately shoved the blankets down again, eyes wide and frantic. The air was still ice cold, but Lance ignored it, glancing around the room. Keith wasn’t there. The bed was empty other than him. Lance shot up in his seat and stared at the floor. Keith’s clothes were gone, along with the marks he had left in the carpet.

The window! That was why it was open. Lance ripped off the covers and leaped out of bed to jog over to the window. He popped his head out, using his arms to steady himself. Lance scanned the entirety of the backyard, hoping to see Keith, but he didn’t. He stretched his neck out a little farther, trying his best to get a glimpse of the plants in Keith’s window next door, but that didn’t work either. Lance huffed a disappointed sigh and clambered back into his own apartment. Snow coated his hands from where he had braced himself against the windowsill, but Lance just wiped them off on a nearby shirt hanging from a hanger.

With his room still freezing, Lance shut the window and latched it. He briefly stared out into the snowy morning, thinking over everything that had happened. With a heavy sigh, Lance let his shoulders sag. Of course, Keith had to leave eventually, he couldn’t stay. And it really was just a stroke of luck that Lance’s mother hadn’t come to wake Lance up. That would really be a problem if she had found him in bed with some guy. There were so many issues there. One being, how did he get in? Another being, why is he practically naked? The one that Lance would be most concerned about though is the fact that he wasn’t exactly out to his mother. All in all, it would have been a mess, so it was a good thing Keith left.

Still, Lance wouldn’t have minded waking up with his legs tangled up in Keith’s, with those beautiful, calming eyes watching him, a layer of sleep fogging them up.

Yeah. That would have been nice.

As Lance was about to start getting ready for the day, something on the dresser caught his attention. Stopping in his tracks, Lance approached the small piece of paper which was neatly laid out. A pencil was sitting atop it, discarded there once the note was written. Lance picked up the shredded sheet, seeing the chicken scratch writing scribbled over it, clearly done in a haste.

 

_Knock ‘em dead, Lance :)_

_  
_

_-Keith_

 

Lance huffed a breath somewhere close to a laugh, but just missing the mark enough that it was also a sigh of adoration. He folded it neatly and placed it in his pocket, deciding to keep it with him for the rest of the day. And with that, Lance began to properly get ready, no longer feeling like the day would be a waste, because he would knock ‘em dead. For Keith, but also for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last night, I had so much homework because there was a thing due that I thought wasn't due until Monday! Then when that was done, I had math questions and physics questions, and it was really all a big mess! Then I had to finish colouring Lance's atrocious walls, and I considered leaving it until tomorrow (today) after school and just posting the two together then. But no! I busted my ass just to bring you guys that speedy content that I promise! So here it is, behold, my drawing of that [window scene](https://sheksper.tumblr.com/post/171448581610/i-tried-my-damned-hardest-here-but-its-not-the)


	11. Carnelian Red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright folks, buckle your seatbelts because this chapter **MAY SHOCK YOU!** _(NOT CLICKBAIT) (GONE VIOLENT)_  
>  We've got a little blood and injury, we've got a little violence and death. We've even got a little bullying and racism. Something for everyone here.

With everything that had been going in Lance’s life, he hadn’t even been thinking about the mini field trip that his school had organized. In a small town, field trips weren’t that common. When they did happen, they were to one of the same three places; the bowling alley, the local grains museum, or the ice hole. Since it was the middle of the winter, the school chose the ice hole. They weren’t able to go there when the ice wasn’t frozen.

After spending the night with Keith next to him, breathing evenly and supplying Lance with such a tangible support, Lance was on top of the world. He felt like he could take on anything and Keith would be right there at his side, although not seen. Keith had a way of setting Lance’s heart on fire and lighting him up, allowing him to free himself and smile again. Keith washed Lance’s fears away.

So, despite not exactly looking forward to the field trip to the ice hole, Lance felt like he could do it, like he could handle it. Rolo, Nyma, and Beezer were going to be there, because of course they were, but there were a lot of things that could go wrong at an ice hole when the supervisors weren’t looking. Lance was nervous, but he also had a strange adrenalin running through his veins, like his body was preparing for something that he wasn’t aware of. It wasn’t bad, it wasn’t anxiety, but it was a little bit concerning.

The bus ride to the ice hole wasn’t as long as it usually felt, but that probably had something to do with the fact that Lance was busy daydreaming about Keith, wondering if he had a chance with the guy, what all of this meant. It also could have been due to the fact that Lance wasn’t nearly as anxious as he usually was being so close to his trio of tormentors.

The bus pulled up onto the side of the road, letting all the kids unload before it took off again to find a more appropriate parking space. Lance watched it pull away for a moment, then he turned back to the rest of the group. Rambling on like it kept him alive, the teacher bored everyone to death with his explanation of where everyone was and wasn’t allowed to go. Lance didn’t listen. Instead, he focused on the way his breath coagulated in the air before him. He smiled, imagining himself as a dragon.

Eventually, the teacher seemed to decide that he had covered everything, because they were wandering down the path to the ice hole. Everyone was carrying bags of skates and whatever other gear they needed. Lance hadn’t brought anything with him. He had never learned to skate, seeing as he had grown up in Cuba, where his pastime was swimming. Unfortunately, the water wasn’t his friend in Montana like it was in Matanzas.

While everyone around him settled in the snow or on rocks to tie up their skates, Lance slid carefully along the frozen water. He stopped near the edge, close enough that if he felt like he would slip, he could turn around, but far enough out that he could really get a feel for the ice hole. Lance stared down at the ice below him, studying the uneven patches in it and wondering just how deep it was. What if it broke with him on top of it? He knew it wouldn’t, but it still made him nervous to be too far out. Lifting his head, Lance squinted against the sun.

Suddenly, a hand slapped down on his shoulder, too forceful and threatening to be friendly. Lance instantly froze up, his shoulders tensing.

“You feel like going for a swim, Cube?” a harsh voice breathed into Lance’s ear. Rolo. Of course. The hand jostled Lance, nearly causing him to lose his balance on the ice, then it was gone. Rolo skated away smoothly, gliding along the ice with Nyma and Beezer skating gracefully after him, snickering between themselves.

And for the first time, Lance didn’t feel scared or intimidated by them. A fire burned in his veins and his eyebrows set in determination. Today was the day. After all these years of dealing with their shit and letting them believe they could just do whatever to Lance without him fighting back, all of that was over. No more. Lance couldn’t lift a whole lot, he wasn’t very strong, and he couldn’t fight with a knife, not like Keith could, but what he did have was an incredible amount of resolve in that moment. All of the things that Keith had told him about sticking up for himself ever since they had met washed through his mind in waves. Hit back.

Lance spun on his heel and made his way back to the edge of the lake they were all skating along. He could hear the teacher calling out to a couple of girls who were moving too far away from the group, girls giggling and laughing as they skated along, groups of boys shouting at each other, birds chirping, the slicing of blades against ice, he could hear everything happening around him, but it felt distant. As Lance wandered along the edge of the lake, he checked a large bank for anything that he could use to defend himself. Whether one thought it was a good thing or not, Lance hadn’t brought his knife with him on this trip, so he needed something else to skate around with just in case the three had it out for Lance.

Down by a rather large rock, near the frozen river, Lance spotted a branch. It was pretty big, but not big enough that it wouldn’t also make a decent walking-stick. Lance shuffled his way down the bank, reaching out to drag the branch out of the snow with his ungloved hand. Finally, Lance managed to get a grip on it, yanking it back up to the ice top with him. He scrambled to his feet, checking over the branch he had retrieved. It was perfect, that was what he had decided. With a small smile, Lance grabbed the stick and began wandering along the ice again, much more secure now that he had a weapon on him.

Many people were out skating around the ice, chatting and laughing with their friends. He could see one girl skating sloppily away from a boy who was clearly better at skating than her. She shrieked and laughed, moving as fast as she could. A couple kids were standing around the holes in the ice, staring at the cold water and daring each other to stick their hand in it. One of the supervisors came by to herd them away though. Some kids were just hanging out in the trees lining the lake, trying to figure out how to climb a tree covered in ice while not wearing gloves. Two girls were hanging out by the little river farther back in the trees, kicking their feet as they sat on the rocks. There was a group of boys who had each found branches and were skating around, passing a stone as it if were a hockey puck.

Lance smiled. He was having a better day than he had in awhile. If only Keith could randomly sneak into Lance’s room more often. That sounded weird. Well, the situation was weird anyway. Lance didn’t mind much though, Keith was just like that. Some people were just a little bit left of centre, and Lance considered himself to be one of those people. Lance liked to think that it was him and Keith against the world, two square pegs in round holes, not quite right, but perfect together. It was sappy, sure, but did Lance care? Nope, not one iota.

Lance skated along the ice as best he could in his clunky boots. He fumbled a little bit, keeping himself upright with the stick in his hand. He made his way to a less populated part of the ice so he could be alone with his walking stick and his gay thoughts. Waddling along, one arm out to balance himself and the other using the stick as a support, Lance stopped next to a small ice hole so he could stare into the water. It was dark, but it was also incredibly blue. Lance had always loved that about winter, how the water under the ice was a swirling sea of colour, unlike in the summer when all the light touched it. His gaze trailed up to the far-off distance where he could see the mountains rising up from the hills. The sun was high in the sky, but Lance imagined that the sunsets were beautiful from where he was standing. Did Keith like sunsets? Lance couldn’t help but wonder to himself. A dopey grin worked its way across Lance’s face and he leaned against the stick fully.

“Hey, Nyma. You know what time it is?” a prickling voice chirped over Lance’s shoulder.

He could tell immediately that the question wasn’t for Nyma’s sake, but rather for his own. Lance’s smile downturned and he slowly faced the voice, careful not to topple himself into the ice hole at his side.

“What time is it, Beezer?” Nyma asked cheerily. Her cold, piercing eyes remained on Lance the entire time, but Lance didn’t look away. Crossed over her chest, Lance could see as her arms flexed, itching for something to do.

“Time for swimming lessons,” Beezer replied. There was a sinister tone to his voice, one that Lance wasn’t surprised by in the least.

Rolo, who was hanging off of Nyma’s shoulder, chuckled lowly, his eyes gleaming in the sun. His bangs hid his features, disguising the ominous intentions clear on his face like a curtain.

Nyma’s hum of a laugh sounded so sweet and innocent, and somehow, that was infinitely more intimidating than anything else that could have come from her. The long, acrylic nails she maintained clicked against her jacket, rustling with every touch.

A cruel smirk curled its way around Beezer’s face. The way his features moved was incredibly unnerving. Although a Cheshire grin formed, Lance could detect no pull in his facial muscles, as though it were draw on, flat and disturbing.

And yet, Lance didn’t shrink away, not from their words or their appearance. The strength that he had been working up throbbed in his heart and itched at his skin, urging him to do something, to make some kind of move, but he remained still. Adrenalin spiked in his system, numbing him and making him giddy at the prospect of what he was capable of. He told himself he was strong, that Keith believed in him, Mr. Holgersson believed in him, his mother believed in him. Lance believed in himself. His hands were sore from how roughly he was gripping his walking stick weapon, but he didn’t release his hold, he just stood his ground.

“So, how about it, Raft Monkey? Hop in,” Beezer encouraged, although the tint of his eye revealed the actual threat.

Lance glanced back over his shoulder at the water. He took a deep breath and faced Beezer once again. “No,” he firmly stated. His eyebrows were drawn and his voice was strong. Lance could feel the rush in his veins as he defied Beezer.

For a moment, there was a look of surprise on Beezer’s face, but as he skated slowly closer to Lance and farther from the others, Lance saw the murderous glare that worked its way through his eyes. “No?” he repeated innocuously. Lance lifted the stick off the ground, holding onto it with his other hand as well. Beezer watched the action carefully with his cold and calculating eyes. “What’re you going to do with that?” he asked, a snort added at the end.

Lance took a deep breath in and released it. He thought of Keith and how straightforward he was, how he would never take shit from people like Beezer. He channeled his inner-Keith, hoping that the actual Keith would be proud of his imitation. “If you even think about trying anything, I will hit you,” Lance avowed. He rolled his shoulders back, standing taller. It helped that Lance already towered over Beezer.

Beezer released a short huff of a laugh. With slow, languid movements that illustrated just how unconcerned he was, Beezer lolled his head around to glance at Rolo and Nyma. They stared on with equally amused expressions, letting Beezer take the wheel. “Oh, ho…” Beezer mocked, “You hear that guys? He’ll hit us. When did Mexi, over here, get so brave, huh?” Nyma and Rolo both laughed, loud and obnoxious, and Lance could feel his teeth grind.

Beezer turned back to Lance, skating half a foot closer. Lance tensed, flexing his hands around the branch. “I’m going to skate over there and push you in,” he stated matter-of-factly. “And you’re going to do nothing about it,” Beezer hissed, “isn’t that right?”

“You better watch out, Greaser!” Rolo called out, one hand cupped around his mouth. Nyma cackled next to him and Beezer grinned.

Anger flared within Lance, and in the next instant, Beezer began skating over to Lance without any sign of stopping. Lance was sick of this game they played, he had been for awhile, but he knew in that moment that if he just continued to let it all happen, it would never end. His brow dipped, his teeth clenched, his muscles tensed, and Keith’s words rang in his ears once more;

_Hit back. Hard._

Lance instantly saw red and without a second thought about it, he whipped the branch upwards. In one motion, Lance swiped the stick through the air. There was a moment where Beezer’s eyes widened. The stick impacted with Beezer’s head, creating an echoing crack as it collided. The cat ears he always wore on his head were flung right off his head in the process. Beezer, not expecting it, tumbled to the ground like a sack of rocks. He slid across the ice, not moving. Lance’s heart was beating a mile a minute and he couldn’t hear anything around him, all the sounds of the lake drowned out by the pounding in his ears. Time seemed to slow down as Beezer halted, laying there. Then, in a rush, everything came back to him all at once.

Beezer shrieked. His scream echoed over the entire lake, shrill and haunting, drawing everyone’s attention. It cut through the laughter and the chatting of the groups around them, breaking up any calm that might have once been there. Lance could feel their eyes on him, but he couldn’t look away from the boy below him. Beezer huddled up in a small ball, trying to minimize the pain. Even through the hands that were clutching his ear like a lifeline, Lance could see the blood pooling in the notch of his ear and trickling down his lobe.

There was no way for Lance to see the look on his face when he was curling in on himself, but he didn’t need to, not when he could see Rolo and Nyma perfectly fine. They were stood there, frozen in shock. Rolo’s eyes practically bulged out of his head and his mouth dangled open, no words forming on his tongue. Where he once held himself with intimidation and confidence, he was now slack and dejected. Lance had never seen him appear smaller. Nyma had jerked backwards, placing one of her manicured hands to her mouth, eyes wide and panicked. The other arm remained at her side, protecting herself rather than resting there. She, too, was meekened in the face of a situation where her power was null.

Before long, teachers were rushing over to the aid of Beezer as he continued to scream his lungs out. “Oh my god! What happened?!” Lance watched one teacher try to unravel him so she could take a look at his ear. That was when he saw it, the look of utter pain and fear on Beezer’s face. A twitch at the side of his lip shifted into a shaky half grin. Lance couldn’t help himself, he was smiling. His gleaming blue eyes shimmered in the face of Beezer, no longer taunting him.

Lance didn’t smile because he was proud of his actions. His mother had always told him that violence didn’t solve things, but Lance disagreed. There were times, Lance believed, when violence was all there was to protect you. He wasn’t proud of what he did, but he was proud that he could do it, that he had done it.

He didn’t smile because he enjoyed seeing other people in pain. He didn’t enjoy that at all. Lance liked to make people happy, he always had. Rolo, Nyma, and Beezer, however, had found such delight in hurting and tormenting Lance that when the opportunity came to switch things around, Lance couldn’t quell the lightning in his veins if he tried. To see the face that he must have been making for years, for it to be mirrored on his oppressor’s face, well, it was liquid gold in that moment.

He did smile, though, because for the first time in the past four years, Lance hadn’t felt weak. He didn’t feel like he was a useless waste of space, he didn’t feel ashamed of where he came from, he didn’t feel lesser, like a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of someone’s shoe. He felt in control of his own life and his own path. Before, it was all about moving on as fast as he could, just enough that he could get away from Rolo, Nyma, and Beezer, then he’d be free. But Lance was starting to realize that it wasn’t like that, and Keith had been the one to help open his eyes.

Lance deserved to live freely and to be respected just as much as anyone else. His life shouldn’t be about surviving through the bullying just until he could get away, it should be something that he takes into his own hands. Maybe this was a little bit extreme, but he had warned Beezer, and even if no one believed Lance, it was still self defence.

And so, Lance smiled down at the tear-streaked face of Beezer. It wasn’t a smug smile, or a malicious and cruel smile. It was the smile of someone who was seeing daylight for the first time, the smile of a prisoner whose shackles were released, it was the smile of new beginnings and pride in himself. Lance was free.

Somewhere through the cacophony of Beezer, another scream rang out, this one much more terrified. Lance instinctively turned toward the sound. The two girls, who had been kicking their legs by the river, were suddenly up and racing as best they could across the ice. They were both screeching in terror, glancing back over their shoulders as they slipped across the ice. The teachers were already crowding around Beezer, but as the two girls approached, one of the teachers hurried over to meet them.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” the teacher asked frantically.

The girls, both out of breath, looked around hurriedly.

“The river– There was– We saw–” the brown-haired girl stuttered, pointing to the river again.

The blonde girl was busy going into shock. “Oh my god, oh my god, holy shit,” she cursed.

“You both need to calm down and tell me what’s wrong,” the teacher encouraged. By now, little attention was on Beezer as everyone watched the girls.

“There was a _body!”_ the brown-haired girl wailed. Her eyes welled up with tears. One of her hands instinctively reached out to grab her friend’s sleeve. The blonde girl began crying the second it was said out loud, sobs rolling out of her as she bounced on her feet to subdue her panic.

The teacher didn’t say anything, he just stared out at the river with fearful surprise, then he glanced back at the other teachers. No one said anything, all equally as concerned. In an instant, they were all milling about again. One teacher was helping Beezer off the ice, one was herding everyone back towards the bus, and the last teacher was pulling out his phone, presumably calling the police.

Lance’s heart hadn’t stopped thudding in his chest the entire time and he suddenly felt extremely weak as the adrenalin began to wear off. As they passed the river, Lance did his best to get a glimpse of the body, just like every other student who knew what was happening, but the teachers just forced everybody along. There was so much excitement that Lance couldn’t even be worried, he was just too stunned and dazed. The bus ride back was a blur, everything was a blur.

The only thing that stayed in Lance’s mind was the triumph of standing up for himself for the first time.

 

◊ ◊ ◊

 

Lance stood at the front door to the apartment. He could hear his mother yelling into the phone on the other side. The last thing that he wanted was to open that door and face his mother. At the time, Lance had been defending himself, but he realized that he did legitimately injure a kid. That probably wasn’t a good thing in anyone’s book. Lance steeled himself, taking a breath to give him confidence, then he opened the door and entered the apartment.

“I’ll definitely have a talk with– Oh! He just came in the door. Yes. Yes, of course, thank you,” his mother hissed into the phone. Her back was to Lance as he stepped cautiously into the kitchen. Lance flinched when she slammed the phone back into the docking system. She was mad, he knew that. With a heavy sigh, she turned around to face Lance, her face in hard, unrelenting lines as she glared.

“So…” Lance awkwardly mumbled, hoping to get around the conversation altogether, “there was a dead body in the river today.”

His mother didn’t falter. Blue came up behind her, leaping onto the counter so she could better see what was going on, but Lance’s mother didn’t turn away from her son. “Lance,” she stated sternly. Lance’s eyes turned to the floor, unable to meet the disappointment in his mother’s eyes. “Why would you do that?” her voice dipped into sadness.

“I–” he started, before being cut off.

“You hit a boy, Lance, _mijo,_ I raised you better!” she insisted, a frustration in her voice as she stared sympathetically at Lance.

Lance moved toward his mother, reaching out to hold her hands. _“Mamá,_ no! I know! He threatened me,” he admitted softly, staring into his mother’s eyes and hoping to get his message across.

There were tears in her eyes as she stared hard at Lance. “Threatened you?” she asked softly, confused and frightened suddenly.

“He was going to push me in the water,” Lance answered quietly, trying his hardest to make the entire situation sound better than he knew it was.

His mother’s eyes widened and she squeezed his hands. “What? Lance, why would he do that?”

“Some people just don’t like me, I guess,” Lance laughed awkwardly.

“Do I need to call the school?” she asked, already reaching for the phone again.

Lance stopped her. “No! _Mamá,_ stop, I’m fine! He was just, uh, joking around, but I thought he was actually going to do it. It was my fault.”

He didn’t want to get into it, and he didn’t want his mother involved. She didn’t deserve to have another thing to worry about, especially when it was Lance’s issue. He could deal with it, and he had. Keith was in his corner for that anyways, so his mother could be happy with nothing to worry about. He smiled reassuringly at his mother, shaking their hands together.

“You’re not lying to me, are you?” she asked, squinting at him with concern.

“No, it really was my fault,” he insisted. He could taste the bitterness on his tongue as he lied, every bone in his body fighting to spit out the truth right then and there.

She shook her head, not really sure what to think anymore. A sigh left her, long and calming. There was a resolve in her eyes when she looked back up at Lance. “Lance, you’re a smart boy. I know you are. If it was self-defence, then I’m not mad at you,” she said slowly, carefully, “but that doesn’t make it okay to hit people, Lance, you’re better than this!”

Lance glanced away from her, feeling guilt well up within himself. “I know, I’m sorry,” he told her. And he did know, but that didn’t change the fact that Lance didn’t regret doing it. He only regretted upsetting his mother. “I promise I won’t ever do it again, and I’ll apologize to him at school, alright?” he asked. Another lie. He would never apologize to Beezer for what he had done, but it was what would make his mother happy, even if it made Lance feel worse every time he lied.

“Okay,” she agreed. “He wasn’t injured too badly, so he’ll recover,” she assured him. “You’re very lucky, because you gave him a pretty hard hit, Lance. And then it makes matters worse that they found the body of that lady who went missing in the river today, can you believe that? I warned you that that killer is still out there, Lance, you have to be more careful when you walk home from school. I don’t want anything to happen to you, _mijo,_ do you hear me?”

“I hear you,” Lance replied, gently smiling at his mother as she began to ramble.

“I’m not happy that you hit that boy today, but as long as everyone is safe, alright?”

Lance nodded. “Alright, I’ll be safe.” Lance really didn’t feel like he needed to be overly safe. For whatever reason, maybe it was foolish, teenage invincibility, but Lance had a sense that he was safe no matter where he went. He figured that his newfound confidence had something to do with it, alongside Keith’s determined promise to protect Lance, which Lance fully believed. Him and Keith against the world.

“Good,” she said. Then, with another squeeze to Lance’s hands, she smiled tiredly and wandered back into the living room.

Lance watched her go with a lingering sadness. Not for what he had done, but for how his mother felt about it. He meandered back to his room and dumped his backpack on the floor. He rummaged around in his clothes for awhile until he found what he was looking for. After changing into his pyjamas, Lance stepped back to the door of his room. He paused, glancing over to the wall by his bed. Keith would be proud of him, he knew that. Lance smiled, anticipating when he would get to speak to Keith later that night, then he opened the door and made his way back to the kitchen for dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @Beezer u know he ded
> 
> Also, if any one of you decides to be a dick in the comments and spoils season five, we're going to have an issue.


	12. Lipstick Red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, the last chapter was basically the start of all the warnings.  
> I feel like this chapter needs some warnings too, but I'm really not sure what... I guess, it's slightly sexual...? But in the most unsettling, uncomfortable way possible. It's not overly explicit, it's just... creepy...  
> That's all I'll say. Also, everything goes to shit have fun.

The following morning, Lance had created a plan. Although he knew he really shouldn’t be, he was extremely excited about his success the previous day. He was even more excited when he thought about the fact that Keith would be proud of him. Lance wanted to celebrate. Well, not really celebrate, but he wanted to do something with Keith that would solidify the fact that they were in it together, them against the world. When he and Keith had gone out to the gas station together that one night, it had made everything feel more real. Instead of being confined to the playground outside his apartment building and the wall they shared, Lance felt like he could explore the universe with Keith at his side, free and wild.

He wanted to secure that place in Keith’s mind too.

So, with his plan, Lance had found a way to do that. The basement of the school was often locked, but that didn’t stop Lance. He knew where the key was kept, and so he had transformed a little corner of it into his own hideaway. Lance wasn’t supposed to be down there at all, and if he was found out, that would be the end of everything, but luckily, no one ever came down there, not even the staff. The plan was to bring Keith down there so they could hang out, just them, like usual.

What Lance really wanted to do was a blood pact. He had read about it in a book and understood it to be a pact made between two people who would do anything for each other. It was a little bit extreme, but Lance would do anything for Keith, and Keith had already done everything for Lance. If Keith wasn’t about it, that was fine, but Lance really did feel like he could trust Keith with his life. If nothing more, it could represent that they were fighting the battle against Rolo, Nyma, and Beezer together.

With all of this in mind, Lance had made sure that he knocked on the wall before he had left for school to ask Keith if he would come to the school in time for his strength training. Lance had been wondering if Keith would even be around then, but he was. Maybe his job didn’t start until later in the day, or maybe Keith worked from home. Whatever it was, Lance was glad that he had caught Keith before school. He was even more glad that Keith had agreed to meet him at all.

Lance pressed the weights up, letting his arms hold it there for a moment before he brought it back down safely. Huffing a breath out, Lance reminded himself to push himself, but not to disregard what his body was telling him. Mr. Holgersson was sat nearby, counting for him and encouraging him as usual. It gave Lance a sense of determination, but at the same time, his mind wandered.

Throughout the day, Lance had seen Rolo and Nyma, but he hadn’t seen Beezer. That wasn’t odd to him though. If Lance had gotten his ear cracked open with a branch, he wouldn’t be at school the next day either. Rolo and Nyma had spent the day glaring at him though, rather than what they usually did, which was to stare down at him and smirk condescendingly. It was tough to say whether it was an improvement or not.

Lance also wondered in Keith was there or not, waiting for Lance somewhere in the school. There hadn’t been a meeting place established since Lance was in a hurry and Keith didn’t know the layout of the school anyways. If he had to guess, Lance would say he was outside, by the front door, or waiting in the office. Hopefully if he was at the office, no one would contact his mother about the strange man who was there to see Lance, because he didn’t have an excuse for why some guy was looking for him. Lance realized that he was still keeping Keith a secret from his mother. He wasn’t even sure if his mother knew there was a new neighbour at all since Keith’s appearance had been so quick and quiet.

Letting the bar back down into the holder, Lance decided that he was done for the day.

“That is all, Lance?” Mr. Holgersson asked, confused.

“Yeah, I’m just not feeling it today,” Lance lied. He felt fine, he just knew that if he was at the school for too long, his mother would come looking for him. Lance wanted to have as much time with Keith as he could. If that meant sacrificing a couple more reps on the bench press, then so be it, he’d make up for it later.

Mr. Holgersson gave him a sympathetic look, his shoulders sinking. “Is it because the body was found yesterday?” he asked gently, not wanting to set Lance off with the reminder of the day before.

Lance played along, scrunching up his face in pain and glancing away. As he sat on the bench, his exposed legs feeling chilly under the open air of the exercise room, Lance rung his hands together. “Uh… Yeah…” he awkwardly agreed, not meeting his teacher’s eyes.

“I understand, Lance. You take time to heal your mind,” the teacher insisted. He nodded kindly, giving Lance a quick pat on the back. “If you need to talk to someone about it, I am here to listen to you! You are safe at school, I promise!”

Lance almost wanted to snort when he said that, knowing that as much as Mr. Holgersson believed that, it wasn’t the truth. He didn’t see the things that Lance did, and he didn’t experience the things that Lance did. School wasn’t safe, but that was okay, because Lance didn’t need the school’s false promises of safety when he knew he had something better to rely on; himself and Keith.

With that being said though, Lance did acknowledge that Mr. Holgersson was a teacher who genuinely cared about the wellbeing of his students. Even though Lance didn’t know him very well, and only saw him for about an hour twice a week, he could still pick up on that. When he said that Lance was safe, it was because he truly believed and wanted to make sure that Lance was safe, so it still meant something.

“Thanks, Mr. Holgersson,” Lance expressed, smiling at the man with gratitude.

Mr. Holgersson returned the smile, then he stood up from his seat to leave. “Make sure to be safe on your way home, and don’t be cold!” he called to Lance, then he left the room with his clipboard.

Lance watched him go, waiting until he was out of sight before he frantically rushed out of the room and to the change rooms. This time, Lance was in luck. His clothes were all where they had been left and nothing was touched. Lance preened a little bit at the sight, knowing that it was because he was able to stand up for himself, all on his own. Oh, man, Keith was going to be so impressed and proud, Lance could see it now. He grinned to himself and got ready as fast as he could, jamming all his stuff into his bag. With images of Keith leaned up against a wall, waiting for Lance, he bolted out the door and down the halls, hoping Keith would be easy enough to find.

The hallways were all empty, with the exception of a janitor, a few teachers, and one other kid who had just exited a classroom, so Lance could easily race along through the halls without a concern of getting caught. His backpack shuffled behind him, something clacking against something else creating a loud enough noise that Lance cringed. Finally, he reached the front entrance. He hurriedly glanced around, not finding Keith anywhere. Where was he then? Keith was odd, but he wasn’t going to wander the halls, Lance knew that. He briefly considered asking the office if a guy with a mullet and an odd vernacular marched in like he owned the place while dressed like it was spring, but he realized that that would probably be even weirder, and not get him any closer to finding Keith.

Lance sighed, getting ready to try the office. He turned around, only to come face-to-face with the very guy he was looking for him, watching him with those intense purple eyes that seemed to bore into Lance every time he saw them. Lance squeaked, startled, one hand coming up to weakly punch Keith in the arm.

Keith’s eyes shifted toward his arm, then back up to Lance, a degree of bemusement coloured his expression. “Yeah, hello to you too,” he greeted, laughing lightly.

Lance’s eyebrows narrowed as his face heated up in embarrassment. “Don’t sneak up on me,” he reprimanded, “I could have punched you in the face!”

Snorting, Keith brushed past Lance to step toward the door. “That would have been really bad,” Keith replied sarcastically. There was a teasing smirk on his face as he glanced back over his shoulder. “I would have been down for the count for sure.”

“With these guns?” Lance played along, gesturing to his arms. He flexed obnoxiously. “Yeah, you would have! Don’t test me, Keith.”

Keith tried to contain his laughter, but a couple giggles found their way out. “Right, right,” he conceded. “So, are we going home or not?” Keith asked innocently, a gentle smile on his face as he took another step to the front doors.

“Actually,” Lance drawled, moving backwards and farther into the school, “I wanted to show you something.” As much as it brightened Lance up to know that Keith showed up at Lance’s school purely because he was under the impression that he would be walking Lance home, he did really want to show Lance the secret basement hideout. Keith could walk him home after, especially since it was always dark out by the time he walked home anyway.

“Show me something?” Keith repeated, surprised and intrigued.

“Yes, but you have to follow me into a life of crime,” he joked.

Keith laughed again, trailing after Lance as he continued to wander backwards. “What kind of crime?” he questioned, amused.

“A classic B & E,” Lance revealed with a flourish to his hands. “Or, at least, trespassing, since we’re not actually breaking anything. Either way, we’re not supposed to be going where we’re going, so it’s dangerous. Are you in?” Lance continued backwards, turning down another hallway.

Right as they came up to the door where the basement of the school was, Lance stopped. Keith stopped walking across from him too. “I’m in,” Keith stated simply.

“Great,” Lance grinned. From his pocket, he retrieved the key to the door and quickly stuck it into the lock. It unlocked swiftly, just as Lance had been hoping it would. Once it clicked, Lance glanced back over at Keith, offering him a wiggle of the eyebrows, then he turned the knob and pushed the door open. “Don’t tell anyone,” he whispered. Keith hummed behind him as Lance entered, carefully picking his way down the stairs. Keith followed after him, shutting the door on his way down.

It was dark for a moment, but as Lance pulled out his phone and lit it up, everything was suddenly shrouded in an eerie glow. Lance fumbled around on the wall, trying his best not to trip down the rickety old steps while also searching for the light switch. Why they would put the switch at the bottom of the stairs was beyond Lance, but he found it quickly enough. The old lights on the ceiling buzzed, flickering minutely until they evened out. Although it wasn’t bright, it was enough that everything could be seen. Lance preferred to think of the light as romantic rather than creepy or dingy.

“Voila!” Lance exclaimed. “My domain! I’ve brought all this stuff down over the years, but what’s mine is yours, so don’t be afraid to make yourself at home!” Lance turned back to see Keith.

The man was wide-eyed, inspecting everything that Lance had set up. There was a radio, dusty and old, but still in good condition. Posters lined some of the walls, all of them related to space in one way or another. A lounge chair was placed in the centre of the room, old and worn out with holes in the fabric, but Lance knew that it was comfy as hell. All around, there were books, CD’s, games, pencils, notebooks, and a whole bunch of other random things that Lance had collected over the years, all just sitting on little tables and shelves. It really did appear like the basement of a house rather than a school, but Lance found comfort in it.

“Wow,” Keith breathed.

“Right!” Lance agreed excitedly. As he watched Keith trail around the room, picking things up and holding them up to the light with a furrow to his eyebrows. He thought back to the thing he wanted to tell Keith. “Hey, Keith,” he called. Keith turned to stare at him expectantly, still holding up one of the half-broken vases that Lance had found in the park once. Lance smiled at him brightly. “I hit back,” he stated.

The way Keith’s eyes widened was almost comical. “You hit back,” he repeated.

“Yeah!” Lance nodded. “They were going to shove me into an ice hole.” A laugh escaped him at the thought of what had set it all off. While it wasn’t funny at the time, Lance could fine humour in the situation now that it was over.

Keith, however, seemed to be on the opposite end of the spectrum. His face immediately sharpened into a look of pure anger and hatred. “They, what?!” he spat. The vase almost fell over and broke further when Keith slammed it down onto the shelf. “Are you okay? They didn’t actually push you in, did they?” Keith interrogated. With intense concern colouring his eyes, Keith stalked toward Lance, a fireball of energy racing at light speed. And in an instant, Keith’s hands were gripping tightly onto Lance’s arms, holding him and protecting him in ways that Lance could feel deep in his heart.

“No, I’m fine, Keith. They didn’t push me in. I hit one of them with a tree branch and they backed off.” Lance couldn’t stop the way his hands came up to gently cup Keith’s elbows. He was intending to pull Keith’s arms off of him to assure him that everything was fine, but he found that he really didn’t want Keith to let go at all.

Keith seemed to relax at that statement, luckily, but his eyes never left Lance. “You hit one with a tree branch?” Keith clarified, a hint of a snort in his sentence.

“Right in the ear,” Lance detailed. “He had to go to the hospital, but he’s going to be fine.”

Keith stared at Lance a moment longer than normal, seemingly taking in every aspect of him that he could. Then, unexpectedly, Keith laughed. It was really more of a bark, but he was grinning and clutching Lance with so much joy that Lance didn’t much mind. “You did it! See, I knew you had it in you! Lance, you stood up for yourself,” Keith cheered.

Lance preened, feeling a warmth come over him. Just as he had hoped, Keith was proud, he could hear it in the astonished tone Keith spoke with and he could see it in the awestruck look Keith directed at him. “You helped though,” Lance told him.

“Nope,” Keith shook his head, “that was all you.”

Keith pulled away from Lance, making his way back through the room and inspecting everything, although this time, he had a carefree and jovial aura about him. Lance caught him smiling as he wandered around. The way he would pick up old objects and run his fingers over them, all with an expression of bliss, Lance couldn’t get enough of it. He sat down in the chair as he watched Keith, one hand nervously smoothing itself over the knife in his pocket. The question of the blood pact still remained heavy on his tongue.

“Not that a dusty school basement isn’t a great place to celebrate,” Keith suddenly asked, casually stopping to lean against the far wall, “but why did you bring me down here?” Keith’s head fell lazily to the side as he watched Lance, his eyes partially obscured by his bangs. He crossed his arms over his chest, more as something to do with his hands than anything confrontational.

Lance gave a clipped laugh, some of his anxieties becoming more noticeable. “Yeah, actually… Have you, uh, ever heard of a blood pact…?”

Keith’s eyebrows worried together. “Do you mean a satanic ritual kind of blood pact, or…?” he asked hesitantly, unsure of the direction the conversation was suddenly taking.

“No! Not the satanic ones!” Lance quickly defended. “The ‘we’re in this together,’ ‘you and me against the world,’ ‘we are a good team,’ one.” Lance gestured around to better illustrate his point, but he got the feeling that he was just making it sound weirder than he had meant to.

“Oh,” Keith replied simply, “yeah, I know what you mean. What about them?”

Lance took a deep breath and removed the knife from his pocket. Flicking it open, he displayed it to Keith, the dingy light of the basement gleaming off it. “I want to make one with you,” he mumbled out. His words echoed in the enclosed space, sounding infinitely louder than they should have.

Keith’s eyes widened at the proclamation. “Lance–”

Keith was cut off as Lance brought the knife to his palm and pressed it into the skin by his thumb. He had done a bit of research on the proper way to do it before he had gotten there, just to make sure that he wasn’t messing everything up. It stung, a sharp pinch of pain all across his hand as he dragged the knife down. Lance hissed under his breath, attempting to disguise his wince in front of Keith, but it was difficult. Finally, Lance finished the cut, pulling the knife free from his skin. It was coated in fresh blood, bright and red as it dripped onto the floor and pooled around the webs of his hands.

Lance turned his attention back to Keith and smiled. Except, he wasn’t greeted with the expression he had been expecting. Rather, Keith was pressed up against the wall, his hands turning white at the amount of force he was using to force them into the concrete wall behind him. His shoulders were hiked up to his ears, an attempt at shielding his face, which displayed pure horror and panic. Keith’s mouth hung open and his eyes were wider than Lance had ever seen.

Lance immediately shot out of his seat, approaching Keith as though he were a frightened animal being cornered. “Keith, what’s wrong?” he asked, concern tinging his voice. Why was he so afraid suddenly? Was it the knife? The knife was still in his hand, no longer dripping blood. He placed it on a shelf as he stepped closer to Keith, hoping to eliminate whatever threat Keith must have perceived.

“Don’t come any fucking closer,” Keith growled, his voice cracking at the end.

“Keith, it’s okay, it doesn’t hurt,” Lance assured, but Keith just continued to press himself into the wall with so much force that Lance was sure he was making an effort to phase through it. Lance could see the struggle in his Keith’s eyes and he began to panic, not sure what he could possibly do to help the boy he cared so much for.

“Lance,” Keith whimpered. He was beginning to slide along the wall and farther into the basement’s corner. The way that Keith’s eyes pleaded at Lance was honestly terrifying. He had never seen Keith looking so vulnerable and small.

Lance put his hands out in a placating manner, blood dripping from the open wound of his left hand and onto the cement floor. “You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, Keith, it’s o–”

Before he could say anything more, he was being tugged forward. One second he was standing in front of a petrified Keith, trying to calm him down, and the next second, Lance was being spun around and slammed into the wall. Lance sucked in a startled breath as his back collided with the concrete. His left hand was suspended in the air, locked in place by the iron grip of Keith. No longer was he a timid and spooked child. Altering himself in a complete one-eighty, Keith stood right up in Lance’s personal space, his eyes intense and staring at up at Lance’s extended hand like a dehydrated man stared at water. Lance could hear a low growling emanating from Keith’s throat, followed slowly by a trail of saliva down the side of his chin. Lance could practically feel Keith’s heartbeat against his own, pounding rapidly, urgently. He never once brought his eyes back to meet Lance’s.

“Keith?” Lance breathed, unsure of what else he could really say.

A drop of blood fell from Lance’s hand. Keith wasted no time. He yanked Lance’s hand down to his face, his slicked tongue shooting out to clean away the blood that had leaked across Lance’s wrist. He lapped it up, his eyes crumbling shut and the growling in his throat becoming more of a pleased purr. Lance watched on in frozen shock as Keith’s mouth worked at Lance’s palm, moving up and closer to the wound. His lips suctioned to his hand and his tongue continued to greedily lick at the blood. Lance’s eyes flicked over to Keith’s neck, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he drank more blood right out of the injury in Lance’s hand.

Everything had all happened so quickly and it was such a switch that Lance didn’t even know how to process it. Lance’s throat felt like it had been stuffed with cotton, drying it up and causing his tongue to stick to his mouth, unable to voice anything that was running through his head. Some part of Lance couldn’t help but think that Keith was extremely attractive when he was working his mouth like that, but that part was drowned out by his confused fear. He hadn’t ever felt afraid of Keith, not really, but in that moment, Lance wasn’t sure what he could think anymore. Keith was drinking his blood directly from his wound. His heart was beating so loudly that he could barely hear the depraved suckling noises of Keith or the stunned and breathless words he muttered into the air between them, “Holy shit…”

As though he were brought back to reality, Keith’s eyes snapped open and he jerked back. Lance almost screamed right then, and suddenly their positions were reversed, with Lance being the one to force himself into the wall. Keith’s eyes were entirely yellow, no trace of a pupil, iris, or sclera, just a solid mass of sickly gold. Keith held his hands out in front of him, staring at Lance with so much fear and agony that it was palpable.

“Fuck, I didn’t– Lance, I’m sorry, I– Fuck! Shit, this wasn’t supposed to happen,” Keith wailed, his voice hysterical and panicked as he backed away from Lance. His chin was smeared with blood and Lance could see it on his teeth when he grimaced at Lance’s own arm, which had fallen limp to his side after Keith let go. Lance stood there, shocked into silence and still unable to take his attention off of Keith’s eyes. As Keith frantically backed up, he knocked over the vase he had originally picked up, causing it to shatter. The sudden noise startled them both, and effectively ripped Lance from the hazy disorientation the entire situation had caused him.

“Keith,” he huffed out.

Keith shook his head and backed up faster. He tripped over the chair in the middle of the room, as well as another shelf, all the while, havering on, “I’m sorry, oh, fuck, I am so sorry! I can’t believe–” Finally, as Keith reached the staircase, he gave Lance one last remorseful look. Lance watched as Keith’s pupils returned, the yellow colour seeping into them as if they were sinkholes, and his eyes reverted back to the vibrant purple that Lance had come to adore. Then, Keith turned and scurried up the stairs without another word, his expression one of distressed desperation. He could hear as the door at the top was ripped open, and after a moment, he heard it slam shut again.

Lance stood there, not sure what he could even do. Slowly, he brought his shaking hand into the light. The back of his hand was normal enough sans a few stripes of blood that had leaked through his fingers. Lance took a breath in before turning his hand over. The wound was still there, freshly cut and sore. It stung more when Lance actually had an image to go with the pricks of pain. What Lance focused on most, though, was that all the blood was gone, even the inside of the wound, from what Lance could see, had been cleaned out by Keith’s skillful tongue. All that was left behind was the slightly discoloured skin. It wasn’t even bleeding anymore, either. Lance wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

Glancing over to the shelf where the vase had been, Lance studied his knife. It was covered in his own browning, dried blood. He hesitantly approached it, picking it up with his shaking hands. After turning it over once, Lance nodded.

Everything about that had been insane and Lance was still having trouble processing things, but the gears in his brain were slowly working. He was jumping to some pretty wild conclusions once he had calmed down enough to think. Lance liked to believe that he could think rationally when it came down to it, but even his current ideas were out there. One thing that Lance was now sure of though, was that Keith wasn’t human.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to explain this entire scene to my friend and she just looked at me like I was disturbed and told me not to write that in.


	13. Burgundy Red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last Chapter
> 
> Me, A Good Christian Boy: This chapter is a little bit graphic near the end! I don't wanna make anyone uncomfortable!
> 
> Y'all Kinky Fuckers In The Comments: You think this is graphic??? Hahaha, you have no idea what I've seen. :))))
> 
>  
> 
> Also, this chapter here is a bit of a ride, but there's no Lance and only a brief appearance of Keith. Sorry!

Ezor entered the room with a sour expression on her face, a stark contrast to her usual cheery demeanor. Lotor, Zethrid, and Acxa all glanced up, each with an equally miserable look. “They cut the ice off,” Ezor informed them all, her eyebrows pressing inwards as she spoke.

Acxa didn’t know what to think or what to feel. One of her best friends, gone. She had known that it wasn’t looking good from the moment that they had all been called by Zethrid and had found the blood near the bridge, but she hadn’t let herself believe that Narti was dead in that moment. That was a seemingly fruitless thing to do, but she only realized it after it was too late. Narti had been found, and she wasn’t alive. In fact, she wasn’t just left for dead, she was frozen halfway into a river, found by a couple of high school girls on a field trip. It was hard enough to believe that her friend was dead, but even harder to believe that she had been murdered. What sick person could have done that to Narti? Why? Why Narti? It was all too much. Acxa ducked her head down, staring pointedly at the carpet. She hoped that the police would be able to prove who had done it now that her body was unfrozen, but they hadn’t had much luck with the other murdered girl, so she wasn’t holding her breath.

Across from Acxa, Zethrid nodded, taking in the information shallowly. Lotor, who was sat next to Acxa, just appeared to be angry at the news. His hands clenched in his lap so hard that Acxa was sure he would break his own bones if he wasn’t careful.

“They better get something, some lead,” Zethrid grumbled.

“I’ll hunt that son of a bitch down myself if they don’t,” Lotor threatened.

“It’s all so nerve-wracking,” Ezor admitted. She seated herself in the chair beside Zethrid, slumping into the cushion and releasing an exhausted sigh as she did. They had all gathered at Zethrid’s house for the night, mostly due to the fact that it was the quietest at night. None of them talked about the fact that it was closest to where Narti had gone missing, although Acxa was sure that they were all aware of it.

Zethrid glanced over at Ezor with a questioning look. “What’s there to be nervous about?” she asked.

“Interrogation and stuff,” Ezor stated, waving her hand about in a lazy circle.

Zethrid snorted, “Interrogation?”

“It’s bad enough that Narti is… gone. I don’t need a bunch of police officers sticking me in a dreary room and shining a light in my face while they accuse me of murdering my friend,” Ezor spat. She glared angrily at her hand, which was still raised in the air, her elbow propped up on the armrest.

“I can’t believe she’s gone,” Lotor mumbled to himself.

Acxa watched him for a moment. The way the light from the nearby lamp played off his features created an atmosphere about him that didn’t sit well with Acxa. The glow bringing all his hardened lines and murderous gaze to attention. Everyone had been hit by her death, but Lotor seemed to be the angriest about it, like he’d snap someone’s neck for even saying her name. Acxa knew Lotor, and she feared what he would do sometimes.

Zethrid, leaning back in her chair and pointedly ignoring Lotor’s ramblings, addressed Ezor, “We’re pretty much all suspects, even if we know we didn’t do it, it’s still our duty to testify.”

Ezor grumbled at her reasoning. Acxa watched as she let her eyes close slowly. “Hell,” she breathed.

Lotor continued his thoughts. He hissed, “How am I supposed to accept this outcome?”

Acxa sighed, unhooking her arms from where they had been crossed against her chest. She scooted down the couch a little bit to offer Lotor a comforting pat on the arm. “Lotor, you don’t–”

Her sentence was cut short as Lotor flung his arm out, knocking her hand away. “Don’t start with that dribble!” he shouted. Acxa flinched back, her eyebrows drawing together. Ezor’s eyes snapped open, startled by the outburst. Zethrid just sighed and shook her head, used to the times when Lotor would get riled up. “I don’t need your pity! ‘Lotor’ this and ‘Lotor’ that! You understand nothing,” he finished his yelling with a huff.

Acxa glared at him, rage bubbling up from within her as she stared at the narcissistic man. “She was our friend too,” Acxa spat. She immediately stood from her seat, letting the irritation and anguish show in her eyes as she burned holes into Lotor’s skull. Lotor didn’t even look up to meet her gaze. Acxa clicked her tongue before stepping past him. She smacked him upside the head on her way by, but didn’t turn to see his expression. Instead, she gathered her coat from the rack, passed the dog sleeping in his bed, and marched out the door.

She could hear Ezor’s sarcastic remark as she left, “Great, you really handled that well, Lotor.”

Acxa marched down the steps of the house and into the cold night. A gust of winter air blew her hair into her face, but she just swiped it away, annoyed, and continued on her way. Her car, which she had parked a block away, had never seemed more welcoming as she began heading down the street. Her boots clacked against the asphalt, the only sound she was able to hear while she stomped down the middle of the road. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she dared a car to hit her or for someone to jump out from behind a bush and try to mug her. She was so fired up that she felt as though she could use a punching bag.

Lotor had been getting on her nerves more and more as of late. He always did this sort of thing where he made everything about him. It wasn’t new, he had done that since the moment that Acxa had met him. Lotor wasn’t a bad guy, he was just self-centred. That was fine. Acxa could handle his arrogance, and often times, she found that it suited him well. This was not one of those times. Narti was not just his friend and this wasn’t just about him. Of course, he couldn’t see that, he never could see past himself and what happened to him.

Distantly, Acxa could hear someone calling out her name. The voice was distinctly male so Acxa just rolled her eyes and walked a little faster, hoping to avoid Lotor as much as she could lest she lose her temper upon seeing his face and just sock him right then and there. She grit her teeth and sped up her walk, hating the way his voice seemed to get louder as he ran after her, his dress shoes tapping against the road.

It was dark, and Acxa could barely see where she was going, but the closer Lotor got, the less Acxa found herself caring. She rounded the corner, hurriedly trying to get away from him.

And just like that, Acxa hit the ground as something heavy landed on her from above. She tried to scream, but her jaw hit the road, cutting off her attempt. Pain radiated through her face and back. She minutely realized that the thing that had hit her wasn’t a thing at all, it was a person. They straddled her back, forcing her into the ground. Fear spiked in Acxa’s chest and her eyes widened. She turned her head to see her attacker, but before she could, a hand roughly slammed her face back into the pavement. Once more, sharp pain exploded across her face, but she could hardly feel it when compared with the pricks in her neck. Slurping, disgusting and loud, sounded from the person on her, who had their face buried in her neck. She felt lightheaded.

“Get off her, you beast!” someone shouted. Through her hazy mind, Acxa determined it was Lotor. The person on top of her didn’t stop sucking out her blood. That is, until Lotor raced over to Acxa and jammed his foot into the side of them. They grunted in pain and tumbled off Acxa, falling to the side. Acxa winced as their teeth ripped through her skin, creating an even bigger wound.

Acxa’s hands and face hurt from being pressed into the ground, but before she was able to realize what was going on, she was already sitting up. Lotor’s hands were on her arm and shoulder, attempting to help get her off the road. Everything was spinning and she could hear Lotor speaking to her, but it was difficult to understand what he was saying. All she felt was pain, everywhere. Her heart was beating out of her chest, a message to her mind that she should move, but she couldn’t seem to register it as she slowly blinked up at Lotor’s face.

A movement caught her eye, drawing both hers and Lotor’s attention back to Acxa’s attacker. They slowly heaved themselves off the ground, heaving in air as they did. As if coming to their senses, they quickly turned back to stare at Lotor and Acxa. Involuntarily, Acxa sucked in a sudden breath. She could hear Lotor do the same thing above her, almost letting her drop to the ground out of surprise. It was too dark to make out any features on the person, but their eyes glowed a wan yellow hue in the darkness. It was horrific, the way the light from their eyes highlighted and shimmered off the blood sticking to their face. Acxa watched as their tongue darted out, almost unintentionally, licking some of the blood away.

Then, without any other words exchanged, the person spun around and raced off into the night, their footsteps echoing off the buildings around them.

“Acxa?” Lotor called out, looking down at her.

She mumbled something that probably made sense in her mind before promptly losing all feeling in her limbs. Her body slumped forward and her eyelids drooped. One last frantic yell from Lotor reached her ears before unconsciousness swallowed her whole.

 

◊ ◊ ◊

 

Acxa forced her eyelids open, fighting against the heaviness that weighed them down. Every bone in her body begged Acxa to go back to sleep, but she ignored it, knowing that she had to return to consciousness soon. Although her mind was hazy, she could remember clearly all the events of the night before. The glowing yellow of those piercing eyes which had attacked her were permanently engrained in her mind. She could see them every time her eyes closed, and that was reason enough to wake up.

She flexed her hand, acknowledging that the surface underneath her palm wasn’t hard and scratchy, like the asphalt of the road. Instead, it was soft and plush. Acxa sighed heavily, taking in her surroundings in. She was in her bedroom, lying on her bed, alone. After passing out in the street, she couldn’t recall anything else. Presumably, Lotor, and maybe Ezor and Zethrid, had taken her home. Raising a hesitant and heavy hand to brush against her throbbing neck. There was a bandage in place, covering the wound.

Everything around her was dark, all the lights shut off and only a minute amount of light seeping in through the shutters. Acxa scanned the room, then returned her gaze over to the clock at her beside. It was the afternoon. How long had she been asleep? She stretched her arms out, cracking the joint in one of her elbows as she did. With a pleasured sigh, she dropped her arms back onto the bed, one of her arms landing directly into a patch of sun. Her skin instantly turned grey and began cracking, sending extreme searing pain all the way to the centre of her arm. Acxa ripped her arm back, grabbing it and panting at the excruciating burn.

“What…?” she mumbled to herself, still staring wide-eyed at her arm. There was no mark left behind and her skin had returned back to its pale hue as though nothing had ever touched it in the first place.

Acxa narrowed her eyebrows in perplexed suspicion. Her gaze flicked from her arm to the patch of light, then back up to the window. Careful to avoid the patch of light on the bed, Acxa slinked off the mattress and toward the window. She grabbed the string, twirling it around her finger for a second. Every part of her was telling her not to open it, dread pooling in her stomach at just the thought, but she logically knew that nothing would happen, because nothing had ever happened before.

Acxa removed her fingers from the string, solidified her resolve, and then yanked it downwards as hard as she could. The blinds trembled as they were lifted, revealing the shining sun outside Acxa’s house. The second the light hit her skin, she began turning grey, every part of her body sizzling with agonizing burns. She screeched, dropping the string and falling back into the bed. The blinds fell back down, protecting her from the painful sun’s rays. Acxa curled into herself on the bed, panting and clutching her face. Her heart was pounding out of her chest as she began to realize what was happening. Her pale skin had always been sensitive to the sun, but this was unnatural. Panic began to rise in her chest.

Without wasting another second playing around with the light, Acxa launched herself off the bed and rushed out of the room. The lights were all off in her house, but she didn’t dare turn any of them on for fear of that light hurting her too. She raced to her bathroom, stopping in the doorway. Her eyes shifted between the lights and the mirror. She had to look at her neck, but she couldn’t see in the dark. Swallowing nervously, Acxa quickly flicked the light switch with a shaking hand. A harsh white glow illuminated the bathroom. Hesitantly, Acxa pushed her hand into the bathroom. The light didn’t hurt. Her eyebrows raised in surprise.

Slowly, Acxa entered the bathroom and approached the mirror. She had never looked so bad. Her skin was torn up and broken where she had been brutally shoved into the ground. The bags under her eyes were so prominent and deep that Acxa had to wonder if for a moment if she was hit at some point in the night and she just didn’t remember.

What drew in Acxa’s attention most though, was the bandage pressed into her neck. Gingerly, Acxa peeled the bandage off her skin, wincing when the dried skin that had welded to her pulled at the wound. She ripped the rest of it off, breathing heavily to distract herself from the pain. The wound wasn’t nearly as big as she had thought it would be. There were two holes in her neck, just pinpricks, barely bigger than the tip of a pencil. They had long since stopped bleeding.

A delicious scent hit Acxa’s nostrils, distracting her from the marks on her neck. Where was that coming from? Her mouth watered at the smell of whatever it was, but she couldn’t tell what it was. She turned her head, following the delectable aroma. The bandages were still in her hand, covered in blood. Saliva pooled in her mouth and she swallowed thickly as she stared at it. The more she thought about it, the more she found that she wanted to drink it straight off the bandage. Sweat dripped down her forehead and her heart raced. Never before had she wanted to drink blood, but her vision was blurring the longer she stared at it.

Eventually, Acxa forced herself to rip the bandage away from her face. It took great effort, but she tossed the bandage into the garbage can. When she passed by the mirror again, she happened to glance at her reflection. She looked like shit. Even more so than when she had first entered the bathroom. If her eyes bulged out anymore, they might fall out of her head altogether, and she was sweating profusely. She felt like she might keel over and die at any moment, her stomach clenching and gurgling. Hurriedly, Acxa returned to her bedroom.

 

◊ ◊ ◊

 

By the time night had fallen, Acxa could no longer restrain herself. She could feel her stomach eating itself from the inside out. Although Acxa had never experienced true starvation, she could only imagine that this is what it felt like. It burned like the sun on her skin. Luckily, however, there was no sun outside anymore.

Desperately, Acxa had raced out of her house, through the night. Her legs had moved at speeds that she would never have dreamed she was capable of. The wind in her face mixed with the cold snow falling around her should have frozen her burning skin, but she felt nothing. Everything was numbed, except for radiating pain within her stomach.

Finally, she reached the spot in the snow where Narti had originally been attacked. In her mind, she knew that what she was about to do was wrong, but she couldn’t stop herself. The hunger she felt in her stomach was so intense that all common sense left her. It was as if it were controlling her body, clouding her judgement. All her morals were suddenly obscured. The voice of her conscious telling her not to do it was drowned out by the rumbling in her belly.

Just as her last bit of reasoning left her, she dropped into the snow and began digging. Her bare hands ripped through the snow and the dirt, dragging it all back. It stuck under her fingernails and clung to the sleeves of her shirt, but she didn’t care, she was too hungry. She barely registered the fact that not even her hands felt cold as she dug through the snow. Searching, she tried her hardest to find some hint of blood. As disgusting as it was, she was fully ready to lick the week-old blood off the dirt. Anything to satisfy her hunger.

There was nothing there. No matter how frantically Acxa dug through the snow, she couldn’t find any blood to drink. “No, no, no!” she cried, slamming her hands into the snow again.

Her eyes instinctively trailed over from the snow to the house on the other side of the bridge. Zethrid’s house. Acxa wasn’t sure what Zethrid could do to help her, but it was the only place she could go to.

Her body felt like lead, but she heaved herself up anyways, stumbling along the trail to Zethrid’s home. The lights were on in the upper floor as she knocked on the door. Zethrid’s footsteps inside sounded as she approached the door. The door swung open, revealing Zethrid looming in the doorway.

“Hey, Acxa, what’re you doing here?” Zethrid greeted, smiling at her. She moved back into the house, leaving the door open for Acxa. “I wasn’t expecting you to come by. Want a coke?”

Acxa stood there. She wanted to enter, but something visceral in her body was screaming at her not to. Her body had been giving a lot more cues to things as of late, none of which Acxa wanted to follow. There had been a warning dread in her stomach when she had tried to open the blinds, and it had appeared again when she was presented with her own blood. This was the same. She didn’t step foot into the house, despite the fact that she wanted to.

Zethrid glanced back at her. “Are you okay?”

Acxa nodded and tried her best not to curl in on herself as her stomach exploded in pain again.

“Are you going to come in? It’s pretty cold outside, come in,” Zethrid laughed awkwardly, trying to play off how strange Acxa was acting.

And just like that, the moment those words were uttered, that feeling of trepidation in Acxa’s chest alleviated. Acxa glanced at the doorframe briefly before hesitantly stepping inside. Nothing terrible happened to her and she sighed in relief.

“Seriously, you don’t look too good…” Zethrid commented, her eyebrows furrowing. “Maybe you shouldn’t have a coke. Did something happen? Is this about yesterday? You got knocked around pretty good by that guy who jumped you. Do you want to sit down?” Zethrid gingerly grabbed Acxa’s arm, guiding her inside.

“I’m fine,” Acxa croaked out. Her voice was hoarse and her throat felt raw from lack of use. She coughed a little bit.

Zethrid cringed. “God, you sound awful. We should get you to a doctor or something…”

Before either of them could respond, General came meandering down the stairs, his giant ears flopping around as he made his way along. Acxa had been over to Zethrid’s house countless times over the years, and she had seen General even more than that. Acxa wasn’t the best with animals, she would be the first to admit that, but she had always considered herself to be good with General. They would play together, she would pet him, feed him, walk him. She had even looked after General for an afternoon once when Zethrid had asked. But with the way that General looked at Acxa in that moment, you’d think that Acxa had personally killed General’s entire family.

General instantly dropped his body and growled, never taking his eyes off Acxa.

“General?” Zethrid called out, baffled.

The dog barked at Acxa loudly, threatening her. Acxa took a step back, closer to the door.

“General!” Zethrid chastised firmly.

Acxa nearly tripped on the doorframe, but the sudden movement was enough to set General off. He sprinted after her, barking and growling the entire time. Acxa regained herself quickly enough that she was able to make it halfway down the street, panting and panicking, before finally, General caught up to her. He leaped onto her back, forcing her down. For the second time, Acxa was attacked on that road. Zethrid was screaming behind her, trying to get General to stop and get off, but General didn’t listen, still just barking and clawing at Acxa.

The heavy body on top of hers was relieved. Acxa breathed in a gasping breath. Zethrid was tugging on General’s collar, keeping him restrained as best she could. Barks echoed off the surrounding houses as General went wild, spit flying from his mouth. Acxa stared at his eyes from her place on the ground, the spark of anger in them so bright and ferocious that it was almost palpable. Acxa could barely feel her back and legs from where General had tackled her, but she was sure that even if that hadn’t happened, those piercing eyes would have been enough anyways.

Everything seemed to go hazy for a moment. All the colours around her smeared across her vision, causing instant vertigo. Acxa tumbled back to the ground.

Every word sounded like it was underwater, so far away and distant that Acxa couldn’t make out half of it. Acxa tried to speak, but she couldn’t make her mouth move in the proper way to form words. Her stomach was a searing heat of pain that Acxa had never experienced before, but she couldn’t scream either. Her world seemed to move in snapshots as she faded in and out of consciousness.

One moment, Zethrid was there and General was barking. Then they were gone. Zethrid was back again. Acxa could feel the phantom sensation of hands on her face and back, but she wasn’t sure if those were from reality or a dream. Everything was moving in slow motion for her, but still so fast at the same time, like a film movie with pieces cut out.

Suddenly, an ambulance was there. They were loading her into a stretcher. Acxa struggled against their hold. She couldn’t be sure, but she was thrashing and screaming. Nothing made sense to her and she could barely figure out where she was. The street around her was familiar, but the sudden shift to a white hallway was so jarring and startling that Acxa couldn’t help but panic. Her arms were strapped to the stretcher, keeping her in place. She screamed again. Everything was throbbing and sizzling, like someone was prodding her with a heated metal rod, but she couldn’t tell why.

They rolled her along through the room, but just as quickly as they had gotten there, they were somewhere else. The room was white-walled just as the hallway was, but there were no lights. Acxa tried to look around her, but everything blurred and mixed together, like paint being mixed. Her breaths were shallow and her eyelids were heavy. The tendrils of unconsciousness that gripped her were too strong and she was too disorientated. They dragged her down, deeper and deeper from any semblance of reality. Once more, Acxa’s mind escaped her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise that you'll find out what happened with Lance and Keith next update!  
> Also, I finally got around to watching season five. I really liked it! Petition to make the rest of the Voltron seasons just Lance, Pidge, and Hunk goofing off while dopey Galra soldiers chase them around?


	14. Rose Red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! No more games! I know that last chapter was a bit rude since I left it hanging right before the Big Moment and instead gave you a huge intermission to see what Acxa was up to. This time, however, I promise is an actual confrontation about that weird shit Keith pulled. Also I drew another picture. It's Keith in a really big hoodie. I'll put a link at the end. Okay enjoy.

Lance had been doing quite a bit of thinking since his last encounter with Keith. It had been a day, and although Lance wanted to have some time away from Keith, he never really felt like he could since Keith lived next door. The night that Lance had fallen asleep in bed, a bandage around his hand and a brain full of thoughts, he had stared at the wallpaper of the wall next to his bed, wondering if Keith was on the other side, waiting for him to knock.

Keith wasn’t a human. Lance had already come to terms with that realization. At least, he thought he did. He wasn’t entirely sure if he was just numbing down his emotions on the topic or not. Really though, Lance couldn’t help but feel that it didn’t matter what Keith was, because he was still the same guy that Lance had fallen for when they had met months ago. Sure, Keith had tried to drink his blood, and that was fucking weird, don’t get Lance wrong, but the fear that was reflected in Keith’s eyes was what kept replaying in Lance’s mind.

Finally, Lance had decided that, for as conflicted as he was, he still needed to speak to Keith in person. Lance had originally planned on waiting outside for Keith to meet him at the playground like old times, but this sort of situation felt like it needed something more confrontational. Steeling his resolve and building up his newfound confidence, Lance exited the apartment. He left his mother with the idea that he was going to be outside at the playground like he usually was. Except, that was a lie. Instead of heading for the stairs, Lance’s feet carried him to the door of the apartment next to his own.

Lance sucked in a breath and willed his nerves away. He lifted a hand and tapped out a question mark in Morse code on the door of the apartment.

“Lance?” a gruff voice called from inside. It was Keith, no doubt, sounding tired and hopeful as he called out.

“Yeah,” Lance called back, moving his face as close to the door as he dared so that Keith could hear him.

Listening for footsteps, Lance waited. He didn’t hear any footsteps though. Maybe Keith didn’t want to see him after the previous encounter. Lance strained his ears. Suddenly, the door opened, revealing the top part of Keith’s hair and a bit of his face. Lance startled backwards, not expecting Keith to be there so soon. They stared at each other for a moment, both just taking the other in.

Slowly, without any words spoken, Keith pulled the door open further and gestured vaguely into his apartment. Lance stepped over the threshold and into Keith’s apartment. He let his eyes roam around, taking in the entrance. It was a mirror image of Lance’s own home, only it was completely empty. Where Lance had framed pictures of him, his mother, and blue, Keith had blank walls. There wasn’t even a coat rack. Lance felt cold and alone just walking into the apartment. He wondered if that was how Keith always felt.

As Lance continued further into the apartment, he found that it wasn’t just the hallway that was empty, the entire place was free of anything that would have alluded to it being lived in. Not even the heat was on, leaving the apartment freezing, no better than the winter going on outdoors. The only things that kept the apartment from feeling too open were the plants. Lance had seen them many times from the window, but he had no idea just how many plants Keith had. They were on the window sill, below the window sill, on the floor in a zigzagging pattern, hanging from the ceiling, along the walls.

Some of the flowers were in bloom. Brilliant reds, vivid oranges, dazzling yellows, stunning blues, and exquisite purples all shimmered up from within the green leaves. Each of the flowers leaned toward the one window in the room with its open blinds, accepting the light into the confined space and brightening everything up.

Amongst the flowers, Lance couldn’t help the burst of warmth that overtook him, dissipating the dreary, cold feeling that had plagued him on the way in. Lance’s mouth hung open slightly as he scanned the room. Wandering farther into the garden, Lance carefully tiptoed around the plants, taking everything in. The only place free of plants was the corner farthest from the window where a pile of blankets and a pillow sat. Lance recognized it as the wall that bordered his own apartment.

A shuffling behind Lance alerted him. He turned, watching as Keith glided past the pots on the ground, knowing exactly how to make his way around in the apartment of plants. Keith grabbed a watering can from the kitchen, pouring it carefully into a pot near the entrance, then he floated off to the next plant. Lance noticed that, even in the dead silence, Keith’s bare feet didn’t make a single sound. He walked on his toes, his heels raised in the air. Lance wondered if he even noticed that he was doing that.

Not once did Keith meet Lance’s heavy gaze.

“Keith,” Lance called out cautiously. His voice cut through the serenity of the room.

From where Keith was hunched over, watering a plant, Lance could see as he flinched. He didn’t respond though, pretending that he hadn’t heard Lance at all.

There was no use dancing around the topic anymore. After accumulating all the strange things about Keith into a list, Lance had finally come to the conclusion that Keith had to be a vampire. He was constantly freezing beyond belief, although it really didn’t matter to him, he claimed to have been alive for a long time, he couldn’t eat regular food, he was only ever outside at night, he had gotten to Lance’s window on the third floor, he made zero noise when he moved, he had moved into town around the same time that the killings started, and most damning of all, he drank Lance’s blood.

Lance furrowed his eyebrows. “Keith, are you a vampire?” The words seemed to echo. Lance watched the way Keith’s back tensed up.

With a heavy sigh that sagged his shoulders, Keith raised himself to his full height, a resolute set to his posture that told Lance all the games were off. He spun on his heel and began watering a plant that was in the centre of the room while staring directly at Lance, who was near the window. Light cascaded across the floor, ending just shy of Keith’s exposed feet. Lance didn’t mean to be, but he was meticulously aware of the way Keith sidled around the light.

“Yes,” Keith answered firmly, “I live off blood.” His eyes slid from Lance back to the plant he was watering.

Lance swallowed thickly. He knew what the answer would be, but it still was a shock to the system to hear Keith admit it out loud. “Are you dead?” Lance asked.

Keith paused, his eyebrows drawing together. He pulled the watering can back so he could stare at Lance, perplexed. “No…” he said slowly, unsure of whether Lance’s question was serious or not. “Why would you even ask that?”

Defensively shrugging, Lance averted his eyes, feeling somewhat foolish under Keith’s disbelieving gaze. “Uh… Maybe because you have the body temperature of a corpse and I saw you throw up once when you tried to eat,” Lance replied sarcastically. “I know gas station food is bad, but that was a little bit of a red flag.”

Keith snorted across from him, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lip. “Alright, fair enough,” he agreed, his voice more subdued.

Lance shuffled his feet, moving around the pots while trying to make sure he didn’t knock anything over. “So, when you said that you were born in 600 B.C.E….?” Lance trailed the question off, letting the rest of it hang in the air, unasked. He was so busy watching his feet that he didn’t notice when a pot hanging from the ceiling practically snuck up on him. Lance reared back as he bopped his head against the planter.

Keith, who had his attention on another plant, didn’t notice as Lance fumbled around in his tiny garden. “659 B.C.E. actually,” Keith corrected. “But, yeah. I was.” Keith carefully cradled the watering can as he tilted it further. The water rained down on the soil of a beautiful, little pink flower.

“You’re old as fuck,” Lance commented offhandedly.

Keith stopped again, this time to stare hard at Lance, unimpressed. “I’m only about twenty years old. Except, I have been twenty for a long time…” he confided.

“You’re over two-thousand years old, Keith,” Lance stated, raising his eyebrows as high as they could go while he took in the information fully, “just accept that you’re ancient.”

Keith grumbled, furrowing his eyebrows bitterly. “I’m honestly not that old,” Keith insisted. “My mom has been alive for five-thousand years, and she’s not even considered old. My father is only twenty years older than me though, but that’s because he was turned into a vampire right before they had me.” Keith gestured around with his hands, unhappy at being called old.

“Then, when were you turned?” Lance asked. He wasn’t exactly sure how vampire genetics worked.

“I wasn’t,” Keith admitted. “I was born of two vampire parents. I’m only a half-blooded vampire though. Your grandparents on both sides of your family have to be vampires for you to be a pure-blooded vampire.” He scratched absently at his hands as he explained it, trying to look anywhere but at Lance.

“Does being half-blooded make any difference?” Lance asked, scrunching up his nose.

Keith tilted his head and furrowed his eyebrows, seemingly searching for the answers among the leaves of his plants. “It just means I don’t need blood as often as pure-bloods, and I can eat certain types of meat. Water is also fine. Pure-bloods can only drink blood, nothing else. When you’re turned, though, you really don’t need a lot of blood and you can still eat all the same things you used to…” He trailed off, a bothered look overcoming his face. Then, he stomped over to a closet near the front hallway, where he deposited the watering can. Grabbing a spray bottle off the shelf, Keith spun back around and made his way back to the plants.

Lance couldn’t help but find it even stranger that even the coat closet at the front door only had plant supplies. Rather than push the topic of how the tiers of vampires worked, Lance gave a scanning glance over the plants again, stopping at the pile of blankets in the corner. “Why don’t you have any furniture?” he asked while staring hard at the makeshift bed.

Keith simply answered, “I don’t need any.” He spritzed his plants with something that Lance could only assume was a pesticide.

Lance hummed in acknowledgement. “But you need all these plants?” he muttered.

“I like plants,” Keith smiled. “I like that they can enjoy the sun, even though I can’t. I also like how simple and nice they are… And they don’t care what I am. They also don’t bleed, which makes it easier…”

“Makes it easier not to drink their blood in the basement of their school?” Lance filled in, raising a judgemental eyebrow.

Keith’s expression hardened. “Yes. Accidents like that don’t happen with plants.”

“We’re calling that an accident now?” Lance interrogated. He wandered past a few more pots, getting ever closer to Keith with each step.

“I didn’t mean to do it, Lance,” Keith affirmed, his voice hard and biting.

Lance hummed, not really a response at all. He stared at the plants as he passed them, running his fingertips over the shiny pots. As Lance was about to pass one of the orange flowers, he stopped, something shining catching his eyes. Staring at the soil, Lance could just barely make out a piece of silver in the dirt. Lance reached his hand out, digging the metal out of the plant’s soil. It was a ring. Lance inspected it, the light from the window glinting off the little band of silver.

Why would Keith have a ring in the dirt of one of his plants? Maybe he had lost it while gardening once? It looked old and worn, scratched from years of use. Lance had never seen Keith wearing any jewelry, but maybe this was sentimental. Or maybe… Keith just liked burying treasure... Was that a vampire thing? Lance wasn’t sure.

Turning his attention to the other plants, Lance inspected another plant. He lowered his head to see the soil clearer. Sure enough, amongst the dirt, there was another ring. He didn’t grab it, instead choosing to move on to the next pot. There was a ring in that one too, much more brilliant in its golden colour. Lance’s eyebrows narrowed in confusion as he moved along to the next one. That one didn’t have a ring, but it did have a necklace placed around the entire stem of the flower.

Standing up fully, Lance glanced back to Keith, who was still spraying his flowers. “So, are you trying to grow a ring tree over here?”

Keith met Lance’s eyes then, not sure what Lance was referring to. “What’re you talking about?”

“You have all this jewelry in your plants,” Lance explained. “Where did you get all of these?” Lance held up the ring to Keith.

Keith’s eyes widened momentarily, then he quickly turned away, but not before Lance saw the look of guilt in his eyes. “Oh, yeah…” Keith mumbled. He busied himself with the plants once more. “I just… have them…”

Lance squinted, slightly baffled at the way that Keith had reacted. The ring suddenly felt heavier in his hand. Lance stared down at it briefly before returning it to the pot he had found it in. Rather than delve farther into the topic, Lance decided to leave it alone.

He wandered the apartment some more, taking in everything. He was vaguely aware of Keith watching him out of the corner of his eye carefully, but he didn’t meet Keith’s eye, nor did he address it. Everything about their encounter was charged, tension running thick. Even as Lance picked his way around the plants while he conversed with Keith, he still couldn’t keep down the nagging at the back of his mind. Keith was a bloodsucker, quite literally. Even with everything that they had been through together, and even with how much Lance just wanted to pull Keith in for a kiss and forget all about the basement incident, he couldn’t.

“I’ve never seen your apartment before,” Lance commented distractedly. He wandered through a doorway leading to the kitchen. It was the only place in the entire apartment that actually had furniture in it aside from Keith’s plants, but that was because it came with the stuff.

Keith called out from the other room, “That’s because you’ve never come over before.”

Lance smoothed his hand over the counter by the sink. “I can come over again?” Lance asked. He wasn’t sure if he would ever have the opportunity to do that, or if he would even want to, not now that he knew what Keith was.

“Whenever you want,” Keith responded.

Lance hummed to himself as he explored the rest of the kitchen. There was a cookie jar at the end, completely black and plain. Lance raised an eyebrow. Why would Keith have a cookie jar? He couldn’t even eat cookies. Lance picked the lid up, placing it on the counter next to the solid black jar. If Lance had been thinking, he might have stopped to consider that it contained something he didn’t want to know about, but Lance wasn’t thinking, he had been acting on feelings since he entered Keith’s home.

Inside, there was money. _A lot_ of money. Countless amounts of bills stacked upon each other, shoved into the jar haphazardly and roughly. It nearly overflowed, there was so much of it. And they weren’t even small bills, they were pretty large. Lance gaped, pulling a handful of bills out. He fanned through them, completely baffled.

“Keith?!” Lance cried. “Why do you have so much money? What the hell?” Lance hadn’t even seen so much money in one place before.

“You can take some if you want,” Keith gently told him. There was no motive behind the words.

Lance turned, seeing that Keith was leaning against the doorframe to the kitchen, the arm of his hoodie slipping slightly off his shoulder. Lance hadn’t noticed it until then, but Keith really did look sick and exhausted. Keith’s hair was disheveled and his eyes were sunken. Even with his pale skin, Keith still appeared more ghostly than usual. The way he carried himself was just as strong and confident as ever, but Lance could see, when he really looked at Keith, that it was all a farce. Keith was tired.

Keith was swimming in his hoodie. Sometimes, Keith just wore things that didn’t fit entirely. Lance was used to that. This was different though. The hoodie might as well have been a dress on him, it was so big. It made him look like a little kid, cold and vulnerable as he hid away from Lance. He wrapped himself up in his own sweater just to put something between him and Lance, and for a moment, Lance could almost forget what Keith had done.

That was, until he looked back down at the money in his hands and in the jar.

“Where did you even get all this?” Lance hissed. A feeling of dread swirled in Lance’s stomach, even as he asked the question.

Keith didn’t respond. He just shrugged noncommittedly, his hoodie falling even farther off his shoulder with the action. Keith’s gaze shifted away from Lance, no longer able to meet his eyes.

Lance narrowed his eyes. “You stole it,” he stated.

Keith’s face scrunched up in anger at Lance’s words, but he still didn’t say anything. Lance was right and they both knew it.

“You stole it just like you stole all that jewelry in the plants, didn’t you?” Lance accused. “You take people’s things when you kill them.” Lance slapped the money down on the counter next to the container to emphasize his words. He stalked closer to Keith, looming over him, even though he was only taller than Keith by a couple inches.

“They were _given_ to me,” Keith hissed. He looked up at Lance through his bangs, his eyes shimmering with so many emotions, each fighting for dominance. Guilt, pain, defiance, hope, all wrapped up in a plea for Lance to listen and to pay attention.

Lance tilted his head to the side. “Yeah? Who gave them to you?”

Keith turned his head away again, seemingly shrinking into himself minutely. His fingers fidgeted with the end of his giant hoodie sleeves, scratching and picking at them to comfort himself. Pressing himself into the doorframe of the kitchen entrance, Keith rotated around on his back, glancing over at his garden. “Different people,” he mumbled.

“Uh huh, right. You killed those women.”

Lance just wanted to cut right to the chase. He wasn’t here to fumble around and to pretend like hadn’t figured out what was going on. Keith was a vampire and he was also a killer. And Lance, for all that he was, had never even realized he was stupid enough to trust Keith. Everything that Lance thought they had was all a front. While Lance was thinking it was him and Keith against the world, Keith was really just planning on taking his blood and leaving. He was just another vessel of blood for Keith. And even knowing that, Lance still couldn’t bring himself to stop loving Keith. He hated himself for that, and it translated into his tone.

“I had to,” Keith admitted. He slid around the wall and back towards his garden, fully turning his back to Lance.

“You had to?! Keith, you’re a murderer!” Lance shouted. He was beginning to lose his cool. Never before had Lance been presented with a situation like this with an inhuman being. He’d also never had his heart crushed so much. It wasn’t just the heartbreak of Keith not being romantically interested in Lance, but it was deeper than that. Keith didn’t even care about him as a friend. Everything they had done was just to gain Lance’s trust and it had meant nothing to Keith. He was literally only around Lance to kill him. Lance could feel his heart aching with every word he spoke.

Keith whipped around then, a fire in his eyes that Lance had never seen before. It caused him to flinch back at the strength and the pain behind Keith’s glare. “I know! I know that, Lance!” Keith yelled, his voice cracking. “Don’t you think I fucking know that?! I don’t like it! I hate this, I hate that I have to do this! It never gets easier! I’ve been alive for millenniums and it never gets easier to hurt people, but I do it because I have to or I will die!” Keith heaved, catching his breath. They both stared at each other, attempting to communicate just through looks. “It’s me or them,” Keith added after a moment, hissing the words out as if they burned his tongue.

Lance watched Keith as he clenched and unclenched his fists, fighting against the feelings that struggled to surface. There were angry tears shining in his eyes as he glared at Lance. Keith’s breathing was ragged, even as he swallowed thickly to regain himself.

“Is that how it is with me?” Lance breathed out, his voice sounding far softer than Keith’s loud harsh words had moments ago.

“What?” Keith whispered. He squinted at Lance, misunderstanding what he was asking.

Lance raised his voice a little bit louder. “Were you going to kill me too? For survival?” He couldn’t keep the hurt out of his voice as he stared hard at Keith.

“No,” Keith exhaled.

Shaking his head, Lance pushed onwards. He stepped closer to Keith, letting the bitter hurt in his heart come to the surface. “Is that all this was to you? Is that why you talked to me that first night?!” He could feel his face contorting as he spat the words at Keith.

“No! I talked to you because you were stabbing a tree and that was fucking weird!” Keith shouted back. He raised his voice alongside Lance, each fueling the other’s frustration.

“But you wanted to hurt me in the basement, didn’t you, Keith?!” Lance shrieked. His eyes burned as he said the words. He cared about Keith so much more than he thought he could ever care about another person. Keith had shown him things he hadn’t ever known before and had opened him back up from where he had closed in on himself. And in the end, Keith wanted to hurt him, just like everybody else.

Keith startled back, moving farther into his garden and farther away from Lance’s words. There was such a deep look of pain on his face. “I never want to hurt you, Lance,” Keith declared gravely. His words were so sincere, and Lance wanted so badly to believe him.

“How can I trust you?” Lance’s chest throbbed with every beat of his heart, but he didn’t back down. Instead, Lance moved closer to Keith, following him through the garden.

“I only want to help you, Lance.” Keith stepped back again, drifting through the maze of pots, yet still careful to avoid the dawn’s sunlight streaming in the window. “I want you to be happy,” he muttered out. It echoed in the deathly silent room.

Lance closed his eyes for a moment. He wasn’t sure what to believe anymore. Everything he had thought to be true mixed with Keith’s words, clouding his understanding. He wanted everything Keith was saying to be true, he wanted Keith to care about him the way he cared about Keith.

What was Keith’s intention here? Lance couldn’t tell. Somewhere in the back of Lance’s mind, he was aware that wandering straight into the home of a vampire was dangerous, especially after the incident in the basement. He did it anyway though. Whether it was because he was foolish and he wasn’t thinking correctly, or because some part of him fully trusted that Keith was still the same beautiful boy he had met at the playground so often and wouldn’t hurt Lance, he couldn’t be sure. God, he wanted to trust Keith, and yet he found that he already did trust Keith.

“How can you trust me?” Lance asked.

Keith tilted his head to the side. “What?”

“How do you know I won’t call the police?” Lance moved closer to Keith again, backing him through the garden. “How do you know I won’t try to kill you?”

There was a long pause. Keith just stared at Lance. “I don’t know!” Keith exclaimed, throwing his hands up in exasperation and defeat.

Lance approached Keith, getting closer so Keith wouldn’t be able to escape the situation. “I don’t know either!” Lance cried. He jabbed a finger into his chest aggressively. “Am I supposed to just let you keep killing people?! Am I supposed to pretend I never found out?!” Lance forced Keith backwards with how angrily he got in Keith’s face.

Keith watched Lance with a wide-eyed and defiant look. “No, Lance–”

Lance barreled on. “What happens next?! What does this mean for us, both of us?!” His face felt hot from all the emotions racing through his mind and he couldn’t make his heart calm down. He could feel his palms sweating as he whipped them around, gesticulating as he yelled. Keith flinched every time one of Lance’s expressive hands accidentally came too close for comfort.

“I don’t–” Keith tried to say again, but Lance ignored him. His back hit the wall by the front hallway in a place where there were no plants for Keith to trip over.

“I care about you, Keith!” Lance cried. Keith’s eyes widened even more and his mouth opened minutely. “God, I don’t know what to do, Keith, you mean so fucking much to me!” All his emotions spilled over, too much for Lance to handle anymore.

 _“Then what do you want from me?!”_ Keith screeched. His voice broke, everything becoming too much for him.

Something within Lance snapped. He acted instantly without thinking, gripping Keith’s upper arm with one hand. His other hand came up to cup Keith’s jaw, surprisingly gentle for how fast the action happened. Lance couldn’t even process what he was doing anymore. Surging forward, Lance pushed his lips against Keith’s parted mouth. The surprised gasp that escaped Keith made Lance’s heart leap with nerves, but he didn’t pull back.

After a moment, Keith’s hands rose, shaking. He grabbed Lance’s elbows, seemingly steadying himself. Lance wasn’t sure when his eyes closed, but as he felt Keith’s hesitant fingers on his skin, he didn’t dare to open them. The terrifying thought that Keith was about to push Lance away flashed through Lance’s mind, and he panicked.

He was about to pull away from Keith, when the hold on his arms tightened. Keith’s lips moved against his, gentle and urging. They pushed at Lance’s lips as if testing the waters. Lance didn’t leave him hanging. He responded in kind, matching Keith’s pace and letting their lips push and pull together. His heart was souring and he felt almost dizzy. Everything was too slow and too fast, yet perfect in every way. Lance didn’t even realize that he was making soft noises into Keith’s mouth, humming in happy pleasure. Keith’s lips were so plush and pliant under Lance’s ministrations. He could feel the heat from Keith pooling over him, blanketing him in a warmth. It made Lance realize what he had been missing his entire life and he wondered why they had both wasted so much time not kissing.

At the back of his mind, Lance tried to check if he could feel Keith’s fangs while they were lip-locked, but he couldn’t. That fact made his heart palpitate. Keith really didn’t want to hurt Lance, didn’t even want to prick him while they made out.

Lance’s chest felt tight, not only from the adoration flooding his system, but also from his lack of oxygen. He pulled back at the same time as Keith did, a mutual understanding between them. They both panted, still holding on and staring deeply into each other’s eyes. The way Keith looked right then was enough to make Lance’s heart skip a beat. Keith was just as disheveled as he had been when Lance had gotten there, but with a slight red to his cheeks and a slick glaze of spit over his lips. His gaze was hazy, but still focused on Lance, even as he huffed out in an attempt to breathe normally again. Lance probably didn’t look much better judging by the smirking twitch of Keith’s lip.

“I care about you a lot too,” Keith puffed out, every word sounding just on the edge of loving. Before Lance could say anything, Keith drooped forward and nestled his forehead into Lance’s shoulder. The hand that Lance had had on Keith’s cheek slowly found its way to the back of Keith’s neck, cradling him. “I know it’s wrong that I hurt those people... I wish I didn’t have to, Lance, fuck, do I ever… I’m sorry…” Keith sighed into Lance’s collarbone.

“I know…” Lance answered softly. He tangled his hand in Keith’s hair, twirling the long strands around his fingers. “You don’t have to be sorry… I’m the one that should be sorry; for yelling at you.”

Keith hummed, “I understand why you did it. I just wish I hadn’t dragged you into all this… It was selfish of me…” His voice was hoarse.

“Then I’m just as selfish,” Lance told him, “because I don’t want to lose you.”

Keith let out a small breath of air onto Lance’s neck. It caused Lance to shiver and pull Keith closer for warmth, even though he was just as cold as ever.

“Hey, Keith?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m glad you thought me stabbing a tree was so weird that you had to talk to me that night,” Lance chuckled.

Keith snorted, giggling into Lance’s neck and slumping further into his chest. They stayed there for awhile, just laughing and enjoying each other’s company. Even still, the death that Keith had caused clung to Lance's mind. It wasn't Keith's fault, not really. He knew that, but it still was painful to know that anyone had to die at all. Yet, Lance felt in his heart that he could accept a whole lot if it meant that he could spend more time by Keith’s side. He trusted Keith, and he knew that Keith trusted him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Keith with his giant hoodie that doesn't fit.](https://sheksper.tumblr.com/post/171863202200/keith-in-an-oversized-hoodie-dont-ask-me-what)


	15. Blush Red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure y'all were wondering what was going on with Acxa. Well, I won't keep you in suspense any longer!  
> And, I guess, Lance and Keith show up, or something,,,,

Everything was silent. Deafeningly so. Acxa opened her eyelids. They hurt. Everything hurt. She could hardly even feel her limbs, let alone move them, but they were still aching and painful. Her stomach gurgled and hissed, an unpleasant and sickly noise. Acxa didn’t bother with it though. She was so weak, just staring at the ceiling dimly.

The room was dark and empty, a solid white colour all the way around. There was a single window to one side, although the blinds were down, blocking the morning light. Acxa moved her frail arm, trying to reach the window, even though it was too far for her to get to from her hospital bed. Something stopped her hand. She glanced down, barely able to see the leather restraints keeping her wrists tied to the bed. A giant padlock kept them in place. Acxa just stared at it, letting her mind process it for a moment. Then, she slowly shifted her arm back into place, too tired to fight against it.

She could hear her own heart. It barely beat, each pump sounding like a struggle. It hurt her chest, the soreness being pressed into every time she breathed. More like, heaved, actually. Her breathing was so shallow and laboured that she wondered if she was even getting any air into her lungs at all. Her skin was pale, much paler than Acxa knew was healthy, as if someone had drained all the blood from her body and sucked all the warmth from her skin. Acxa couldn’t even bring herself to care.

Her mouth was dry and her throat felt clogged, as if she had swallowed cotton. As she stared around the ceiling in a daze, her eyes burned. She wanted to close them, but something kept her from letting her eyelids droop. Everything around her felt dulled and muted, but the churning of her stomach was as vivid as ever. Her mind whispered to her, urging her to find blood, but she was just so exhausted and starved. It was all too much.

Vaguely, in the back of Acxa’s mind, she seemed to recall Lotor stopping by her hospital room to see her. She couldn’t remember how long ago that had happened since everything felt like a hallucinogenic dream at this point, but she could vividly remember what she had said. The words were still on her tongue, her mouth still shaped around them, even in her dilapidated state.

 _“That dark shadow,”_ she had croaked out, _“it infected me. Whatever it did to me, I can’t stop it. I don’t want to live like this.”_ The look of terror in Lotor’s eyes when she had spoken was clear. It had quickly turned to rage though. Acxa knew he would do something, if not for her, then for Narti. The murderous intent so thinly veiled behind his eyes was all Acxa needed to see to know. She had closed her eyes then, but she couldn’t remember when she opened them again. Everything was hazy.

The door across the room opened, alerting Acxa. She lolled her head to the side to watch as the doctor entered the room. “Good morning!” he greeted brightly. Acxa didn’t respond. “I come bearing good news; you’re being discharged today!” The doctor wandered around the bed to the chair that was next to Acxa. He settled himself down, holding a clipboard in his hand. “All your tests seem normal and the minor injuries you did sustain aren’t serious enough to keep you, so you can go home now. Your friends are waiting outside for you too. I’ll just unlock these,” the doctor smiled, gesturing to Acxa’s restraints. From his pocket, he produced a key and popped it into the padlock. With a flick, he unlocked it. After pulling the lock away, he tugged the leather strap away from her wrist.

Acxa stretched her fingers minutely, rolling her wrist around and testing the movement. The doctor began to pull away, intent on putting the clipboard down on the bedside table, but Acxa stopped him. Her hand shot out, wrapping around his arm and halting him. the doctor stared back at her, puzzled. Acxa parted her chapped lips and forced out a couple words, “Could you open the window?”

For a moment, they just stared at each other, Acxa’s bleary eyes attempting to focus on his features. It was too difficult. She was putting all her energy into holding his arm in place. “Sure, no problem,” the doctor agreed. He gently retracted his arm from her grip and stood. Acxa watched him step toward the window and grab the string. She knew what would happen, but she didn’t stop him or warn him, she just waited.

The doctor carefully pulled on the string, lifting the blinds. Instantly, light poured into the room, illuminating everything. Acxa’s skin burned, turning grey and flaking, nothing but piles of ash. She screamed, her guttural sounds echoing around the room. The doctor startled back just as the door slammed open. Lotor, Ezor, and Zethrid raced into the room, but they pressed back into the wall behind them, alarmed immediately.

Acxa shrieked as her body burned. She burst into flames, spontaneously combusting, her skin acting as fodder. The fire licked the ceiling, high and mighty. Acxa cried out, her throat raw, tearing apart with every animalistic screech that was forced out of her. She could feel as her body melted and sizzled, pain shooting through the entirety of her being. Thrashing about, she burned alive. Even with the pain, it was still preferable to a life of drinking blood.

Every inch of her was on fire all the way down to her bone. The fire consumed, like a hungry, insatiable beast. It pulled the oxygen from the air as fuel, effectively suffocating Acxa. The air she could pull in smelled of seared flesh. Her screams were choked, yet still powerful. She could taste the ash and smoke on her tongue as she flailed in the hospital bed.

Her vision faded, her voice wavered. Finally, with one last weakened shout, her body gave in to the inevitable. She scorched until everything around her was gone and she couldn’t feel a thing. For the last time, consciousness escaped her. Right there in a hospital bed of flames, Acxa died.

 

◊ ◊ ◊

 

Lance shovelled cereal into his mouth as he stared down at his phone. A while ago, Lance’s mother had gone out to pick up a few things from the store, leaving Lance alone. It wasn’t something that Lance wasn’t used to, but somehow, the apartment felt bigger than ever. Blue was somewhere, napping, but Lance still couldn’t help the feeling.

It had been two days since he had last seen Keith, and while he still spoke with him through the wall, he hadn’t actually seen him. Lance wanted to see him. As much as he was still conflicted about the fact that Keith was a real vampire, he was also continually questioning what he and Keith were now. He wanted to be official with Keith, to really be his boyfriend, but he wasn’t sure what Keith wanted. Everything was just a worry in Lance’s mind at that point, but he ached to talk it out with Keith.

A knock at the door pulled Lance from his internal lamenting. Lance glanced up to the door, pausing with his spoon in midair. Sighing, he dropped the utensil back into his cereal and scraped his chair back. They weren’t expecting anyone, so Lance wasn’t sure who he had expected to be at the door, but when he opened it, he was pleasantly surprised. Speak of the devil, there was Keith.

“Hey,” Lance greeted, a smile quirking at his lip.

“Hi,” Keith answered.

Lance joshed, “Figured out how to use the door, did you?”

Keith rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue. “Hilarious. I didn’t want to wake anyone else up that time, and you know it.”

“But you were fine with interrupting my beauty sleep? I see how it is,” Lance snickered. He jutted his head back into the apartment as a gesture for Keith to come in. Stepping away from the door, Lance began to make his way back to the kitchen, leaving the door open for Keith.

“Uh…” Keith called out awkwardly. Lance turned around, seeing that Keith was still standing out in the hallway. “You have to invite me in…” he reminded, shuffling his feet. He glanced down the hallway, clearly not liking being out where everyone could see and hear him.

Lance’s mouth made the shape of an ‘O’ as he stared at Keith. “What happens if I don’t?” he asked curiously, meandering back over to meet Keith at the door. “Can you come in anyways, or is there a barrier?” Lance tilted his head to the side and laughed. He brought his hand up to the air in the doorframe. Using his knuckles, he knocked on the invisible blockade. With each rap of his hand, he clicked his tongue, mimicking the sound that knocking would create.

Keith just gave him an unimpressed look. Lance lowered his hand again and chuckled. Then, to his surprise, Keith took a sizeable step forward, crossing the doorframe into Lance’s home. Startled, Lance watched as Keith raised an eyebrow and passed by him. He wandered to the kitchen, trailing his fingers over the counters as he went. Lance gradually followed him, bewildered.

As he reached the table, Keith spun around to face Lance. “There’s no barrier, I just start to die from the inside out,” Keith stated matter-of-factly, casual as ever.

Lance’s eyes widened. “What the fuck, Keith, what do you mean?”

But Keith didn’t need to explain anything, because right as Lance finished his sentence, the vampire started to shake. Lance would have thought that he was shivering, but he knew better. Instead, Lance watched on. Keith’s shaking gradually turned to vibrating, but he never once took his eyes off of Lance, nor did he move.

Keith’s face flashed with a look of pain, but he quickly schooled it away. Opening his mouth to say something, Lance began to panic, but he was cut off from anything he could have said as Keith groaned in pain.

“Keith…?” Lance mumbled.

A hunch started to develop in Keith’s back, forcing him in on himself, even as he tried to stand up straight. Lance could see on Keith’s rolled up sleeves as his flesh dissolved into bloody, open wounds. His legs weren’t much better, lesions drilling into his skin and pooling with blood before dripping down his bare feet when they overflowed.

From within Keith’s fluffy head of black hair, the skin of his scalp popped, bursting open. Lance watched as blood cascaded down his forehead like a paint streak. It flooded out of his ears, dripping down his earlobes, only to land on the shoulders of his shirt. Blood flowed from Keith’s nostrils suddenly, soaking his lips as it trailed its way down his chin and along his neck. Horror filled Lance as he watched Keith’s sclerae turn red in the same way that the yellow had done in the basement, except this time, it began cascading from his eyelids.

“Holy shit,” Lance breathed, stepping forward with his hands outstretched.

Right then, Keith keeled forward, a gurgling gasp escaping from his throat as he practically threw up blood into his own hands.

“Keith!” Lance cried. “You can come in!” He grabbed Keith, yanking him into a hug. He felt Keith relax in his arms, a heavy breath releasing through his bloodied nose. “Why the hell did you do that?! You could have just told me that you would have died, you didn’t need to prove it! Fuck, don’t do that again!” Lance wailed, stilling holding onto Keith for dear life.

“You asked what happens,” Keith grumbled out, as if that was a good excuse.

Lance pulled back, staring seriously into Keith’s eyes. “I thought it was a barrier, not your body literally eating itself alive, okay, so don’t play innocent here. Are there any other rules I should know about?”

Keith hummed, thinking on it. He was still covered in blood. It caked most of his face and Lance had a hard time looking directly at him, it just hurt too much. “I don’t think so…?” Keith decided on.

“What about garlic?” Lance pondered.

“I can’t eat it, but it doesn’t bother me, so I don’t think that one works,” Keith reasoned.

Lance thought for a moment. “Do you have a shadow?”

“Yeah…?” Keith responded, as if that was obvious. “I have a reflection too, if that’s your next question, I can’t defy physics…”

“Well, just checking!” Lance defended. “Do you actually get burned by crosses?”

Keith gave Lance a look. “That’s ridiculous, of course not.”

“Are you immortal?” Lance inquired.

Shaking his head, Keith explained, “I’ll die one day, it’ll just be a long time.”

“I’ve got nothing else then,” Lance relented. “So, the confirmed vampire stereotypes are that you need to be invited in, you can only drink blood, you can fly, you burn in the sunlight, and you’re all sex gods. Or is that last one just a you thing?” Lance winked, listing everything off on his hands as he wiggled his eyebrows at Keith.

With a loud snort, Keith shoved Lance away, grinning to himself. He was adorable, even through the blood on his face, Lance decided. “Shut up,” he protested, amusement in his voice. “Can I use your shower now? This blood is drying and it feels gross.” Keith began wandering through Lance’s home, not really knowing where he was going, but going anyway.

Lance grabbed Keith’s hand, spinning him around and leading him to the bathroom. Keith followed along without any resistance. “The towels are in the closet there and you can use the soap in the shower. I’ll bring you some clothes to wear when you’re done,” he told Keith, who smiled at him tenderly. Lance quickly shifted his expression, giving Keith a suggestive look. “Are you sure you don’t need help cleaning up?” he joked.

Keith laughed again, “I’m sure, perv.” Then, he pulled away from Lance, disappearing into the bathroom and shutting the door behind him.

Lance tittered to himself even after Keith was gone, then he headed to his bedroom to pick out some clothes for Keith. Even through the adjoining wall, Lance could hear as the water in the shower turned on. He was glad that Keith was having a shower since it was getting difficult to continue looking at Keith while he was painted with his own blood. That had legitimately scared the shit out of Lance – he had honestly thought Keith was going to die – but it had also made Lance realize just how devastated he would be if Keith really did die. He wanted to protect Keith just like Keith protected him.

Lance rifled through the clothes in his dresser, looking for something that Keith could wear. He was about the same size as Keith, if he estimated. What would Keith need? A shirt and pants, but did he want socks and underwear too? Lance wasn’t sure. He picked out a loose fitting, long sleeved shirt and a pair of sweatpants for Keith to wear. Those looked good, he decided. His heart jumped at the idea of Keith wearing his clothes, and he grinned dopily down at the pile of clothes in his hands.

Making his way back to the kitchen, Lance placed the folded clothes on the dinner table next to his cereal. He plopped down in his seat to finish his dinner, which had become soggy after being left too long. Lance didn’t mind, he would eat it anyway. An idea occurred to him. He swiped his phone off the table and opened it. Flicking through the apps, he pulled up his music. After turning up the volume and selecting a playlist of his favourite songs, Lance set it back down, letting the upbeat pop music fill the apartment. He bobbed his head along with it as he ate his cereal.

Lance didn’t even hear when the door to the bathroom opened up, a cloud of steam swirling out. Too busy wrapped up in his music, dancing around in his seat while he shovelled soggy cereal into his mouth, Lance jumped when a sudden snort grabbed his attention. He spun around, nearly falling right out of his seat. Keith was standing in the doorway with a towel slung over his neck. He rubbed at his wet hair.

“Is that what you were doing before I got here too?” Keith teased, still wiping at his hair.

Any retort Lance had prepared was completely stalled as he took in Keith’s appearance. From where he was leaned up against the doorframe, it gave Lance a perfect view of how toned he was. Keith wore a lot of clothes that were too big for him or had a lot of fabric, so Lance really wasn’t sure what to expect, but this wasn’t it. He wasn’t ripped, but it was clear that Keith spent a lot of time working on his body. Just looking at the droplets of water trailing down his abs was enough to make Lance all but swallow his heart. Keith even knew that he had stunned Lance into silence, because he was wearing a stupid – admittedly attractive – smirk on his lips.

“This is my apartment, I can listen to Cardi B if I want to! And if you must know, I wasn’t!” Lance defended, pointedly looking at his cereal as his face turned red. He could _feel_ the heat on his cheeks as it quickly flushed over his entire body. “Now, could you stop lounging around in your underwear and put on some clothes?” Lance tried to keep his voice level, but it was difficult with Keith sauntering over to the table to grab the clothes that Lance had gotten for him.

Snickering to himself, Keith unraveled the sweatpants before sticking one leg in, followed by the other. Lance did his best to just eat his cereal and not choke on it, but he could practically feel Keith behind him, changing. A pale hand slid across the table to retrieve the shirt. Once Keith was completely dressed again, Lance finally turned his head to once again meet Keith’s eyes.

Adorably, Keith didn’t fit Lance’s clothes the way that Lance had thought he would. The sleeves of the shirt dangled over his hands and the sweatpants dragged a bit. Keith just rolled the sleeves to his elbows before staring disdainfully at the ends of the pants. How did Keith manage to go from hot as hell, to cute and small in a matter of seconds?

“What’s up with you only wearing clothes that don’t fit you?” Lance asked without meaning to.

Keith didn’t seem to find an issue with the question though as he answered casually, “I usually take the sweaters from people once they’re empty, but I buy my other stuff.”

Lance frowned, “Empty? Like… of blood?”

“Yeah,” Keith confirmed. He tried his best to look as though the subject didn’t bother him, but it was clear that Keith didn’t want to refer to it as anything too direct.

Lance decided not to push it. “Why would you take their sweaters? You’re not exactly hurting for cash, so you could just buy new ones,” Lance pointed out, raising an eyebrow. He ate some more of his cereal.

Keith looked away, an embarrassed look on his face. “Well… I can’t exactly give the people nice burials, so I guess I just sort of take something from them so I don’t forget them… I don’t always do it…” Keith tried to articulate what he was thinking, but Lance could see from the furrow his eyebrows that it was a bit of a struggle.

“So… They’re trophies…?” Lance cringed at the thought of Keith taking trophies.

“No,” Keith sternly denied. “They’re not trophies, they’re like… reminders…? I’m not human, but I still have humanity, and I don’t want to lose it. It’s… really hard to live for so long and kill people without beginning to think of everyone as disposable, and I hate that. I don’t ever want to take lives for granted. I take the money because I have to be able to buy things, but I take the jewelry and sweaters to make sure that I always remember that these are people I’m taking, not objects. So, it’s a form of burial, I suppose,” Keith’s voice dropped to a whisper near the end, ashamed to be sharing this with Lance, but wanting him to understand anyway.

Lance nodded along. He did understand where Keith was coming from. Lance had only been alive for eighteen years, so he had no idea what it would be like to live for two thousand, but it really didn’t seem like a cakewalk. There were days where Lance had felt like he wouldn’t be able to make it another day, that everything was just too much and he needed it to end. Those days were mostly due to Rolo, Nyma, and Beezer’s harassment, but they were still real. He had his entire life ahead of him and it already seemed like too much. What did Keith feel like, living so long and having to kill people to do it? If people’s jewelry and hoodies kept Keith going, kept him sane, gave him something to hold on to, then Lance could understand and respect that.

“And I accused you of being a thief…” Lance muttered. Keith turned to him, surprised at Lance’s conclusion. “I’m kind of an asshole, wow.”

“No, you deserved to be upset,” Keith sighed. He pulled back a chair across from Lance and slumped down. He stared across the table at Lance, eyes tired, but still bright as ever.

Lance kept his eyes on Keith for a moment, just basking in the time he got to spend with Keith. His music, although quieter now, was still playing in the background. The atmosphere around them wasn’t tense like it had been at Keith’s apartment, but it was still heavy. Lance smiled at Keith mischievously in an attempt to alleviate the feeling. “Your mullet flairs out when it’s wet,” he snickered.

Keith raised a hand to the back of his head, feeling the tendrils of hair that splayed outwards. An irritated look crossed his face. “Eat your damn cereal,” he hissed.

Lance laughed, knowing that Keith didn’t have a comeback.

They stayed that way at the table, with Lance’s playlist playing in the background while Lance ate his cereal. Keith, at one point or another, had gotten a cup from the cupboard to fill with water. He was content to just sip that and chat with Lance. They laughed about stuff, discussed everything under the sun.

Lance asked Keith many questions about Keith’s early life from years ago, which Keith easily answered. He enthralled Lance with tales from Ancient Greece and the Renaissance era. He spoke about how incredible it truly was to see the Eiffel Tower when it was first put up. Lance was surprised to learn that Keith had served in several wars, including The Seven Years’ War, the War of 1812, and the Korean War. Keith had also met many influential people, like Beethoven and Darwin. Lance was stunned by that. Keith knew a lot of languages, which Lance had a lot of fun with. He named every language he could think of while trying to find one that Keith didn’t speak, but Keith couldn’t be tripped up. He had a lot of time on his hands though, so Lance could accept that Keith knew many languages. He learned that Keith was originally born in Joseon, now referred to as Gojoseon, which was an ancient kingdom in what was now modern-day Korea and his mother tongue was an extinct language called Goguryeo.

Lance also shared his own stories about Cuba and Varadero Beach. Keith had, unsurprisingly, been to Cuba before, but he had never been to that specific beach. Lance swore that he would take Keith there one day, which Keith laughed at. He asked how Lance was going to get him onto the beach in the sun, which Lance hadn’t actually thought about. That was something to plan. Lance shared with Keith all his life goals about wanting to travel and find something to make him feel alive. He mentioned how much he wished he could get away from this small town and go find himself. Keith had listened to him fully, telling him that he would get a chance to leave one day.

Their conversation had to come to a swift close when Lance picked up the sound of his mother’s keys in the door. “Keith, you have to go!” Lance frantically whispered. He shot up from his chair and grabbed Keith’s hand, dragging him out of the seat. Keith yelped, but Lance cut him off, pressing a hand over his mouth to shush him.

“Lance, come help with the groceries!” Lance’s mother called from the front door.

“Alright, _mamá,_ just a moment!” Lance shouted back. He looked back to Keith, who was staring at him with his eyebrows drawn together and his mouth still covered. Lance removed his hand quickly and mouthed a quick, ‘sorry,’ to Keith. Never once letting go of Keith’s hand, Lance pulled him through the kitchen and into the living room. He opened the window by the television and gestured to Keith. “My mother will kill me if she finds out you’re here,” Lance whispered, “but I had a lot of fun anyway.” He offered Keith a smile which he hoped was endearing enough.

Keith smiled back, soft and slightly amused. “I had fun too,” Keith whispered back.

He moved to the window and propped a foot up on the sill. Right as he was about to leap out, he turned back to Lance. Grabbing Lance’s collar, he tugged him forward and into a kiss. Lance, despite knowing that his mother was waiting for him right around the corner, couldn’t help the way his body melted into Keith’s touch. He kissed back, revelling in the electric feeling of Keith’s soft lips against his. Then, before Lance could get too into it, Keith pulled away and let go of Lance’s shirt.

“Now go help your mom,” Keith suggested quietly. And without a single other word, Keith leaped out the window, into the dark, winter night. Lance watched as Keith rolled through the snow at the bottom, landing perfectly on his bare feet before racing off. His heart fluttered airily at the sight of Keith, causing a dopey grin to spread along his face.

“Lance!” his mother called again.

“Sorry, coming!” Lance quickly assured. After shutting the window, Lance rushed to the front door to get the groceries, all the while, thinking about Keith.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did so much research on ancient Korea and extinct languages. I didn't even know extinct and dead were different when describing languages, but they are. I had to find time periods that lined up and everything. A lot of research for like four lines of narration, but it was interesting.


	16. Scarlet Red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is nothing I love more about this fic than Keith disregarding all his own safety for Lance, and treating Lance like he's made of golden silk, while also going out there and literally murdering people.
> 
> So, here, have more of all of those things.

School had never gone quite as well for Lance as it was going as of late. Ever since he had hit Beezer, he hadn’t been harassed by the trio once, which was an incredible and empowering feeling for Lance. It also created a lot more free-time when there was nothing to be afraid of all the time. When Lance had been looking over his shoulder constantly and hiding in the locker room after school, it was a lot harder to focus on school, but he had free time now. Lance could come home safely and finish his homework quickly. He was pretty smart to begin with, so given the peace of mind he needed while studying, that just made everything easier. Lance was happier than he had been in three years, and if that didn’t feel incredible.

Once Lance’s homework was finished, he would often go help his mother with dinner. They would eat together, talk about their days, laugh and discuss some tv shows, and then they would clean the dishes together. Lance would make sure that Blue had a lot of love during this time too, letting her ride around on his broad shoulders while he cleaned up, listening to her purring in his ear.

After that, his mother would usually go watch tv with Blue. She always asked Lance if he wanted to join her, and normally, Lance would have agreed, even though he really wasn’t a fan of what she had recorded. Instead, Lance would use his reliable excuse of going outside to get some fresh air at the playground. She hadn’t ever had a problem with that, being a firm believer in kids getting enough time to play outdoors, but she had taken to warning him to be careful since the killings had begun. Lance just wanted her to not worry, especially since the end of school would be soon, and Lance would be off.

Except, rather than actually go outside, Lance would sometimes just head next door to the plant apartment of his boyfriend’s. Was Keith his boyfriend? That still hadn’t been sorted out.

“Hey, Keith?” Lance asked as he stared at Keith’s violet eyes, so close to his own.

Keith glanced away from the plants around them, still smiling gently as he did, to meet Lance’s watchful eye. “Yeah?” he breathed. It tickled across Lance’s nose.

“Are we…? Like, are you my boyfriend, or…?” Lance stuttered out, his eyes shifting around and his fingers twitching anxiously where they were resting behind Keith’s back.

A soft huff of laughter escaped Keith and his eyes closed serenely. “Yeah, I thought it was obvious,” he admitted, still chuckling.

Lance let out a relieved breath of air over Keith’s face. “Oh, thank goodness, I was worried that you hadn’t noticed just what a catch I am, or something,” Lance joked, laughing as Keith rolled his eyes and smacked the back of his hand lightly into Lance’s shoulder.

They had been sitting on Keith’s makeshift bed ever since Lance had left his apartment. The snow was beginning to melt outside, not much, but enough. It was also around the time that the sun began to stay out for noticeably longer. This meant that, although it was still pretty dark, the sun was still shining through the window of Keith’s apartment. Light cascaded over all of Keith’s plants and highlighted the particles in the air. Lance had wanted to sit in the sun, partially because he was cold. While Keith couldn’t be in the light, Lance could, so he had come up with a solution.

The cold chill of Keith’s apartment was kept away from Lance by the enormous hoodie that Keith had retrieved from his closet. On Keith alone, it was practically a dress that Keith drowned in. However, it was perfect for the both of them to use. Keith was sat on the blankets with his legs crossed and face shielded from the sunlight by Lance, who was seated in Keith’s lap with his legs wrapped around Keith’s waist. Between the giant hood over Keith’s head and Lance’s own head blocking the sun, Keith was safely out of the sun’s aim.

Keith was also using his body heat trick to warm Lance up more, like a literal human furnace. Lance had no qualms with it, snuggling up to Keith. They hadn’t moved for awhile, and Lance was more than happy to remain where he was, just happily soaking up all the love and affection that Keith was gifting to him. Lance closed his eyes and hummed as Keith pressed a long lingering kiss into Lance’s jaw. A shiver passed through his spine as he felt Keith’s lips slide lower.

Keith pulled back a bit, just enough to be able to look Lance in the eyes. “Are you still too cold?” he asked, a bothered expression tainting his features.

Lance kissed Keith’s temple, his smile spreading even through the kiss. “Not when you’re around. Babe, you’re so hot, I don’t even need this sweater,” Lance flirted, winking at the end.

Keith glared at him. “Really, though, if you are cold, I can buy an electric heater for next time you come over,” Keith suggested.

Those words filled Lance with more warmth than any electric heater ever could. The thought of Keith bothering to go out and buy a heater just for Lance made him very happy, but it also meant that he wouldn’t have an excuse to cuddle up with Keith again. “You don’t have to do that, Keith. I’m really not that cold,” Lance assured.

Keith nodded, a set to his lips and a furrow to his brows. He probably didn’t believe Lance, believing him to be cold. Keith didn’t exactly understand how human temperature worked, but he was trying, and Lance loved it. “If you’re sure…” Keith hummed.

“Fine, you’re right. I am cold. In fact, I’m frost _smitten_ with you!” He gave another, slightly more obnoxious wink.

Keith tried his best to keep his expression unimpressed, but he couldn’t stop it as he snorted and ducked his head. Lance giggled to himself, counting it as a win. He loved making Keith laugh, it just filled his heart with so much adoration. “Pickup lines are the worst,” Keith grumbled while still attempting to hide the upwards pull of his lips.

“They are not! You love them!”

“No, I don’t,” Keith insisted.

Lance leaned forward, kissing Keith’s nose and earning a startled gasp from Keith. “Wow me with your most loving line, Keith.” Lance leaned back, closing his eyes and smiling smugly as he waited for Keith to shower him with affection.

He could hear as Keith was silent for a moment. Then, there was a reigned sigh, causing Lance’s smile to become a little bigger, more amused. “Uh…” Keith mumbled. Lance could already imagine the strained look on Keith’s face as he tried to think up something. “Y-You are like the sun, because you light up my life, and you’re very warm. You also burn me alive like the sun does, but yours is in a good way, like, you burn my heart. Or you set my heart on fire, that’s a better way to say it…” Keith forced out, sounding awkward and stuttering through the entire thing.

Lance’s heart swelled and his cheeks hurt from trying not to laugh. Finally, Lance burst into laughter, tilting his forehead toward Keith with the force of his giggles.

“Shut up, it’s not that funny,” Keith mumbled, a deeper frown engraving its way onto his face as he glanced away in embarrassment.

Lance pressed his forehead into Keith’s, still tittering. “No, it’s not funny, you’re right. That was the best compliment I’ve ever gotten, thank you,” Lance told him. He opened his eyes to stare directly into Keith’s violet eyes. Lance could see the pure adulation in Keith’s eyes, even through his irritated frown, but Lance just beamed and continued, “You’re like the moon because you’re cool, and mysterious, and even though you hide in the day, your beauty rules the night.” He punctuated his words with a meaningful kiss to Keith’s now-smiling lips.

Once Lance pulled away, Keith snorted, “Wow, good recovery.”

Lance smiled, “I know, I am smooth.”

Keith chuckled at Lance’s ridiculousness. He leaned into Lance’s neck, burying his nose into the crevice there. Lance giggled at the feeling. Or at least, he _was_ giggling, until Keith pressed his lips into Lance’s neck and caused him to inhale suddenly.

Keith’s lips massaged at Lance’s neck as he kissed the delicate skin. Lance swallowed nervously, his heart beating almost too fast in his chest. Keith took the action as an invitation, migrating across Lance’s taunt throat to suckle at his Adam’s apple. Lance released little noises at the feeling, unable to keep himself quiet. His hands, which had been hanging loosely behind Keith’s back while his arms were settled on Keith’s shoulders, twitched, needing something to hold onto. He slid them back to Keith’s neck and tangled them in his hair, pressing Keith’s entire head farther into his neck as lightly as he could.

Lips gracefully shifted along Lance’s neck and to his shoulder. A tongue poked out to gently lick at Lance’s unblemished skin. Lance’s hands tightened unconsciously. The warmth of Keith’s mouth on his body made Lance squirm and whine, even as light and loving as it was. Keith hunched down to better lick and suck at Lance’s collarbone. He skimmed his teeth along the ridge, humming into Lance when he heard the panting above him. Without warning, Keith bit down on Lance’s skin. It wasn’t a rough bite, but rather, one to test the waters. Lance still all-out moaned at the feeling, practically melting into Keith.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Lance realized that allowing a vampire complete access to his neck probably wasn’t a great idea, but he couldn’t bring himself to care in that moment. He was almost surprised that Keith’s fangs were retracted when he bit into Lance’s collarbone, but he didn’t put much thought into it.

Keith continued to kiss his way up Lance’s neck, arriving back at his face, where he peppered quick kisses all along Lance’s jaw. Lance released a breathy laugh before moving one of his hands out of Keith’s hair. He captured Keith’s cheek with his free hand and guided Keith up to meet his lips in a proper kiss.

“What’re you trying to do?” Lance mumbled against Keith’s lips, still holding his boyfriend’s chin.

Keith gave another chaste kiss, his eyes hazy as he watched Lance through his eyelashes. “What do you mean?” he slurred.

Lance loved the way that Keith sounded dazed after kissing Lance. “You better not leave any marks on my perfect skin, Keith,” Lance teasingly warned.

Keith growled gently. He pulled away from Lance’s hold to press a bunch of kisses into Lance’s cheeks. “I like marking your skin…” he muttered into one of the kisses.

Lance giggled, trying to sound serious even with Keith’s lips tickling him, “If _mamá_ sees a single hickey on my neck, I’m going to be skinned alive and it’ll be your fault. I’ll sell you out. _Mi mamá_ will march over here and skin you alive too, don’t think she won’t.”

Keith’s eyes widened momentarily at the idea of being confronted for leaving love bites all over Lance’s neck. His face dropped, unimpressed. “Fine… but only because I can’t mark up your skin if you don’t have any,” he relented begrudgingly. Much to Lance’s irritation, Keith leaned back and far out of Lance’s personal space.

“Ah, what a respectable man I have,” Lance cooed.

Keith’s hand swatted at Lance’s arm again, causing Lance to grin and pull Keith back in for another loving kiss. Keith didn’t even fight it. They stayed in the dying light of the day for another few hours, content in the warmth they shared. Lance decided then, that he could kiss Keith forever and he would let Keith kiss him right back for as long as Keith lived. And that was a long time.

 

◊ ◊ ◊

 

The clock in Lance’s mother’s room read 1:00 am. Lance knew this because he was currently staring at it. His mother was fast asleep in her bed, dreaming of having a less secretive son, probably. Blue was wrapped up in a ball on the pillow next to her. Lance watched her a moment, hoping that she wouldn’t randomly wake up for any reason. He knew that the longer he waited, the more likely it was that she would wake up, but he had to be sure. If his mother caught him sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night, he would be murdered on the spot. It was better she never finds out.

Lance had last seen Keith around four days ago when they had gone out to the park together, still in the pitch-black dead of night. It was there that Lance suggested at another sleepover at one of their apartments. He didn’t really care which one, but he kind of wanted it to be Keith’s since Keith had already stayed over at his once. Keith hadn’t seen a problem with the idea. They planned it for a Saturday night since Lance wasn’t sure if the Friday would work since his mother usually stayed up later those days.

So, that was the plan. Lance would sneak out of his apartment whenever he got the chance and he would tiptoe the small distance to Keith’s door. Lance had been feeling like he was wasting time for the full three hours that he had pretended to sleep, but he had knocked on the wall of the bedroom to alert Keith with Morse code that he wouldn’t be there for awhile. Keith told him that he would wait, but if he fell asleep waiting, it was Lance’s fault.

As it was, everything seemed to be going pretty well. Keith hadn’t tapped anything back through the wall for a little over a half an hour, so Lance figured that he was either away from the wall, or he had fallen asleep. A sleeping Keith was always adorable. Lance was excited.

Lance gently closed the door to his mother’s room, careful to turn the knob before actually shutting it so that there wouldn’t be a loud click. Then, on light feet, Lance danced down the hallway toward the front door. Underneath him, a floorboard creaked, making him cringe and pause. Nothing happened though. The eerie darkness of his apartment remained calm and the air was still just as stiff as when he had first left the bed. Lance sighed. He was already wearing an huge sweater of his own to sleep in, along with some wool socks, because he knew how Keith’s apartment got.

Opening the door as slowly as he could, Lance prayed to the entire world that his mother didn’t hear him. The door squeaked. Lance, once again, halted. Mentally, he berated the entire building for being old and making noises, but he kept his actual focus on the noises coming from his mother’s room. Not a peep. Lance huffed out a breath he _had_ known he’d been holding. It was a fun breathing exercise that allowed him to drop dead from lack of oxygen if his mother caught him sneaking out, because that would be a much more merciful death than whatever she planned for him.

Lance only cracked the door enough that he could slither his body through the opening. Once he was out, Lance swiftly shut the door and raced on sneaking feet all the way to Keith’s door. His nerves were running high. He had never escaped his apartment in the middle of the night, yet there he was, and to see a boy, no less. It was ridiculous, but Lance couldn’t help but feel like Juliet, racing away from her Capulet title. Lance smiled to himself.

Upon reaching Keith’s door, Lance raised his hand to use their Morse code knock. He didn’t get around to knocking though, because he noticed that the door was open. It wasn’t just that it was unlocked, because Lance knew that Keith sometimes forgot to lock his door, but it was actually open. Keith never did that. But then again, he knew that Lance was coming over, so maybe he had left it open for Lance to sneak in easier.

Pushing the door open quietly, Lance slipped inside. Using the same technique that he had used only moments ago, Lance turned the knob and shut the door as silently as he could. The last thing he needed was anyone hearing Lance moving around in the middle of the night. That would just get him in a lot of hot water.

Lance shuffled into the apartment, down the white hallway and into the mountainous garden of plants. He instantly noticed the pile of blankets where Keith was sleeping, his unmoving form buried under a load of blankets. He had once told Lance that he preferred sleeping with his entire body covered so that there wasn’t a chance of the light hitting him while he slept. That was when Keith slept; the day. Lance wasn’t stupid though, he had noticed that Keith’s sleeping schedule had changed drastically in order to accommodate Lance. It was honestly really sweet, in Lance’s opinion.

Lance was about to whisper into the darkness to test if Keith was awake or not, but before he had the chance, a movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention. Purely out of instinct, Lance dropped to the floor and crawled backwards until he was obscured from view by a giant potted plant with low-hanging leaves. He held his breath and curled in on himself, praying that whoever was there wouldn’t notice him. Part of the need to get away was because of the fact that he wasn’t supposed to be in Keith’s apartment so late at night, but the other part was that he wasn’t sure if this person was supposed to be in Keith’s apartment at all.

Watching through the drooping plant, Lance followed the movement of the person. He wasn’t able to tell who they were from where he was, but he knew it was a man. Was he here to rob Keith? Lance didn’t see any money in his hands, not even a bag alluding to money. Keith had a lot of money in that jar. If the guy had found it, he wouldn’t be able to shove it all into a coat pocket and walk out. Had he noticed the jewelry in the pots? Is that what he was after?

The man’s silent footsteps halted in the middle of the room. Lance could see as he glanced around at everything. “Where are you…?” the man whispered, almost to himself. He spun around, scanning the room with all its plants as he did.

Lance pressed a hand to his mouth, hoping to muffle his breathing enough that he wouldn’t be heard in the dead silence. He felt the urge to shift closer to the wall, farther under the plant, but he feared the man’s watchful eyes would notice him. Lance couldn’t see a whole lot through the leaves of the plant, but he could see the glinting of the knife in the man’s hand as he twirled it.

Suddenly, the man’s feet stopped turning. He stared directly at the pile of blankets in the corner of the room. Keith. Lance had known instantly when he came in that that was Keith, but anyone who didn’t know Keith, would just think it was a pile of blankets. The man stepped around the potted plants carefully, making sure he didn’t knock any over. Lance watched as the man loomed over Keith’s sleeping form. He leaned down. One had gripped the edge of the blanket and slowly pulled it back, careful not to disrupt the unconscious boy beneath. His other hand gripped the knife even harder, his vein popping out of his arm and his clenched fist shaking.

Lance could see the man’s white flowing hair. Realization hit him like a brick to the face, causing him to gasp gently into his hand. Luckily, Lance was far enough away that the man didn’t hear him. That was the guy who was always at the café down the street. Lance had seen him dozens of times. The man was very loud when he spoke, obnoxiously so. His voice was one that demanded to be listened to. Here, now, he didn’t speak, he let his knife do the speaking for him.

With the blankets yanked back, Keith’s dark hair poked out, his bangs sticking straight up off his head. Lance’s heart hurt, beating out of his chest desperately. He could see the boy he loved, laying unconscious as a man with a knife menaced over him. Every nerve in Lance’s body was urging him to stop the man. Electricity sparked his body and panic flooded his stomach. He didn’t know what to do, but he couldn’t let Keith be killed. Lance’s body screamed at Keith, begged Keith to wake up, wake up, wake up. Nothing happened. Keith just lay motionless, sleeping. Lance’s body thrummed. He could see it before his very eyes. Keith was about to be laying motionless for an entirely different reason.

"You infernal beast. You've taken enough from me," he hissed lowly, his voice a growl. The man positioned the knife right above Keith’s neck.

Lance shot forward instantly, knocking over the giant plant that had been hiding him. The ceramic pot shattered, the tree hit the ground. Lance’s voice echoed with the resounding, guttural force of his yell, “NO!”

Instantly, the man tumbled over, spinning around with wide, startled eyes. As soon as he registered Lance’s horrified face staring at him, hand outstretched, the man’s face morphed into one of extreme anger and hatred. His brows were pulled inwards so forcefully that he barely looked human anymore. His hand twitched and his jaw clenched.

Lance’s stomach dropped. Heart beating wildly and palms sweating profusely, Lance froze. His limbs felt heavy in the face of certain death. The room around him spun. He could feel his mouth moving sporadically, but he couldn’t tell if he was speaking or not. Maybe he was screaming. His throat felt raw and dry either way. His hand, which was still out in front of him, was shaking violently, just like the rest of his body.

The man advanced on him, taking a threatening step around the plants and towards Lance. He didn’t make it very far though. Before he could even lift his other foot off the floor, there was suddenly something leaping onto the guy's back.

 _Keith,_ Lance realized. 

Keith latched onto the man's shoulders, desperately attempting to stop him from where he had been approaching Lance. The man wasn't having that, however. He keeled forward suddenly, whipping Keith clean off his back. Keith's body slammed into a row of pots nearby, smashing all of them. Lance wanted to scream but his entire mind was shutting down.

The white-haired man stalked toward Keith's body again. Keith was pushing himself upwards, his hands slipping and catching on a shard of his broken, ceramic pots. He groaned in pain, even as the shadow of the man's form slid over him. Moonlight casted its glow over his back. When he looked up to meet the man's furious glare, Lance could see the blood streaking through his hair and down his face. Lance whimpered.

Eyes briefly flickered over to Lance, probably judging how much of a threat he was. That was all the opportunity Keith needed, and even more reason to use it at all. Keith's features morphed into something that Lance had never seen before, something dangerous and enraged. Just one flick of the eyes from the man with the knife at Lance, and Keith was instantly swinging his leg outwards.

It caught the guy off-guard. He yelped as his knee folded inward and he stumbled forward. There wasn't enough time for him to gather himself before Keith was already rolling behind him in an expertly practiced move and lunging at the man's shoulders again. This time, Keith didn't mess around and the man was already being forced to the ground by a figure on his back within seconds.

Lance watched with wide eyes as Keith viscously clawed at the man, digging his fingernails into the skin of his chest. Keith rode on his back, bearing all his weight into the guy until the man could barely keep himself up. His knife was still in his hand, and he used it to stab at Keith, succeeding in getting his arms in a few places. Lance winced and whimpered each time that Keith was harmed. Keith didn’t even acknowledge that he had been wounded at all. Lance could see Keith’s glowing eyes, solid yellow as they focused in on the man’s screeching face. Keith’s growling mouth practically unhinged itself as he hovered by the man’s neck. Lance was hardly able to tear his eyes away from the fangs protruding from Keith’s mouth.

"Foul beast!" the man shrieked, stabbing at Keith's arm again. "You took them!" Lance wasn't sure what he was talking about, but the desperation in the man's voice scared him.

Almost in slow motion, Keith clamped his mouth down, stabbing his teeth directly into the throat of the intruder. Lance watched on in horror as Keith drained the blood from the flailing man he was latched to. The man tried to scream out again, but Keith’s legs wrapped around his stomach and kicked inward, cutting off the air from the man. Lance could see so clearly as life was sucked right out of the guy with the knife. His face went slack and his skin drained to a pale white. The fiery glow of his eyes that had pierced itself into Lance was long gone, having been swallowed up as he succumbed. All at once, his arms dropped to the floor, as if they belonged to a doll. He crumpled to the ground in a heap, Keith keeping himself firmly lodged into the carotid artery the entire way down.

Eventually, after what felt like years, the man stopped moving completely. Lance stared at the guy’s limp body. It didn’t show a single sign of life. Lance could see the knife still in his lifeless hand. Rage filled him. It was rage at the man for harming Keith, it was rage at himself for not doing anything, it was rage at the entire situation. His fearful shaking quickly turned to angry shaking. Keith was still sitting next to the man, checking for a pulse to make sure that he wasn’t still alive, but Lance didn’t even look to him as he launched himself across the rows of pots between him and the corpse. Lance shouted his fury. He grabbed the knife right out of the man’s hand, lurching it backwards to stab it into his flesh.

“Lance!” Keith cried. He hurled himself at Lance, gripping his wrist to keep him from bringing it down. “Don’t do this. He’s dead.”

Lance was crying, wailing and attempting to rip his arm from Keith’s hand. Keith just flicked at the knife, forcing it out of Lance’s finger. All of Lance’s emotions were swirling within him, everything quickly becoming too much. Keith’s face was covered in blood, especially his mouth. He looked frantic and worn out. The scratches along his arm were bleeding and dripping down his skin, painting Keith in slick, shiny red. It made Lance’s heart physical ill. He sobbed, sagging into Keith’s chest. Keith didn’t question it, instead, bundling Lance up in his arms.

They stayed like that for some time, with Lance wailing and Keith hugging him. Lance’s heart ached, his chest was sore. His lungs burned with the effort to breathe, but he heaved anyway, attempting to regain some control over himself. Keith just rubbed his back and held him tight. Lance was sure that if he looked, he would see that his clothes were covered in blood, but he could hardly see through the watery glaze of his eyes.

“Lance,” Keith called softly.

“I’m sorry,” Lance slurred, burying his face into Keith’s chest.

Keith pulled back. He grabbed Lance by the cheeks and forced him to look up. Keith was still smeared with blood, reminding Lance all over again of everything that had just happened. Lance’s eyes watered.

“I know,” Keith whispered, “I know you are… but… Fuck, he knew what I am… I can’t stay here anymore. I have to go before the police get involved, or more people like him show up… I just...”

Lance’s eyes widened. “No, you can’t go! We’ll just… clean all this up… and it’ll be fine,” Lance hiccupped.

Keith stared at him, pity and pain in his expression. “Lance, there’s no way we can get rid of this,” he gently told him, glancing over to the bloody mess that had been created. “I have to move on now, that’s how it works. You knew I would have to leave eventually, Lance. We both knew.”

Tears welled up in Lance’s eyes again. He couldn’t watch Keith leave, it was too much. He knew that the moment that Keith was gone, he wouldn’t ever see him again. There would be no contact, no chance of ever running into him. Keith would be gone forever and out of his life for good. Lance couldn’t let that happen. Being with Keith was the only thing that had made him feel alive in years. He couldn’t imagine life without Keith anymore.

“Take me with you,” Lance breathed.

Keith opened his mouth to say something, but snapped it shut in surprise. “No,” he stated incredulously.

“Please, Keith, you can’t leave me here,” Lance reasoned.

Keith just shook his head, closing his eyes and shutting Lance out. Lance could feel as the hands on his face twitched.

“Keith,” he called, “we can’t end here.”

“You deserve a life,” Keith murmured. His eyes remained shut tightly.

Lance reached forward and stroked his palm along Keith’s jaw, cupping his face in the gentlest way he could. He pretended that he wasn't smearing the blood from Keith's forehead. “I want a life with you.” He sniffled, even as a smile formed along his features.

Keith opened his eyes then. He slowly looked up to meet Lance’s gaze. “A-Are you sure?” Keith questioned, his voice barely heard.

Lance shifted around, moving out of Keith’s hold to stare him right in the eye. Keith looked so torn apart, like his heart was shattering just from meeting Lance’s gaze. Lance could see it; how terrified Keith was. Just as Lance didn’t want to leave Keith, Keith didn’t want to leave Lance.

“I don’t want to be in this town anymore, Keith. Please, let me come with you. Let’s travel the world together, you and I,” Lance pleaded. He offered Keith a shaky smile, his tired eyes imploring Keith to accept.

Keith didn’t move for a moment, just stared at Lance. Minutely, Keith opened his mouth, a hard breath escaping his lips. In the softest voice, he spoke, “This is my life.” Keith blinked, hard. He took a shuddering breath as he hung his head. “If you come with me, it will always be like this,” Keith whispered.

“I know, and that’s alright,” Lance told him. He smiled reassuringly.

Keith’s face scrunched up into one of pain. Then, as if everything was finally leaving him all at once, Keith sobbed. He wiped his tears away with his bloodied arm, spreading the blood around. “Okay,” Keith heaved out. “You can come with me, Lance.”

And those words felt like they held Keith’s world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's quite a question about what chapter is Blood Red. And all I can say is that it's 50/50 now.


	17. Blood Red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who is ready for shit to go so downhill?? That's right, this is it, the much awaited chapter; Blood Red.
> 
> Now, before we begin, I'd like to plant a seed in your mind. Tags are meant to let you know what's going to happen in the story, so it's very curious that there are two tags in particular that have yet to be used. Interesting.
> 
> With that being said: read with caution.

Lance knew what he was doing. Skipping town with Keith wasn’t something that was really all that surprising for him. In fact, Lance had been anticipating it for quite awhile. Graduation had been his original goal. He was hoping that Keith would wait for him, then they would be able to leave. And they were so close. Lance only had four more months before he would finally be free, but it seemed that not every plan was cookie-cutter perfect. High school had never meant much to him anyway.

Moving out with Keith was the opportunity that Lance had been waiting for. Of course, there was the fact that he had to leave behind his mother and Blue, but they would be alright. They had each other. Lance would send postcards to her every once in awhile. When Lance was younger, he had always been adamant that he wouldn’t leave his mother’s side, that he would live with her forever. Times changed though, and as Lance grew up, he came to realize that moving out and away was something he had to do for himself. Sure, not everyone just left their family without any form of goodbye, but Lance wasn’t exactly in an average situation. Besides, he had a note stashed away in his room that he would leave out for his mother when he left.

Keith had packed all his things - mostly just plants - up the night before and shipped them away to the next town. His plan was to get everything set up in the new apartment in the new town and then come back for Lance. During that time, Lance was just supposed to go to school and live life like normal, knowing that it would be the last chance he had to gain some closure. It wasn’t clear when Keith would be back, but the estimation was a few days.

Three days had passed, and Keith still hadn’t returned. His apartment was abandoned, the man’s body still inside. The door was locked though. It would be a while before the building owner came looking for Keith’s rent, but he wouldn’t find any money, just a corpse. Lance hoped he would be out of the town by then, somewhere untraceable with Keith. Still, every night, Lance stared at the wall in between his room and Keith’s old apartment, just thinking about everything that had changed in his life in just a few short months, and how much more it would change in the months to come.

Lance could remember when Keith had first moved in next door. He recalled how irritated he had felt that someone would be on the other side of a thin wall, making all the noise in the world. The dead silence had confused him though, and only now did Lance realize that those intense and piercing eyes through the window had truly been his first warning that nothing would ever be the same. Lance couldn’t be happier with everything though. Of course, he wished that not so many people had to die, but it was something that Lance found he could look past. It was a strange thing to be so indifferent to death.

So, for three days, Lance waited. He woke up every morning. He said good morning to his mother. He petted Blue and told her how beautiful she was. He walked to school. He participated in his classes. He strongly met the murderous gazes of Rolo, Nyma, and Beezer, who lingered down the hall from his locker. He went home at the end of the day. He did his homework. He had dinner with his mother. Then, he went to bed, only to start it over again. And when Tuesday came around, Lance did his strength training.

He continued on like Keith was never there. The wall had never been so silent. Every plant reminded Lance of Keith’s home. He often ran his fingers over the note that Keith had left him that night when he slept over, smiling softly as he did. Every night, Lance would stare out at the playground and let the loving memories flood him until it became too much. Then he would slide to the ground beneath the window and bury his face in his arms. It was those three days that Lance really began to realize how dull his life was. Lance didn’t want to live like this. He wanted to be with Keith, even if that meant they were on the run for the rest of their lives.

It was Thursday now, meaning that, once again, Lance had strength training. It wasn’t that Lance didn’t want to go to strength training, he just didn’t want to be at school if Keith chose then to come pick him up. All of the things that Lance had decided to take with him were packed up in his suitcase under his bed and he still needed to grab that before they left too. Hopefully, Keith wouldn’t be in too much of a hurry and they would be able to stop for that bag.

Lance trudged down the path to the school, his backpack weighing into his shoulder more and more with every step. He knew that all of the homework he carried in his bag didn’t matter. When Lance left the town with Keith, all of that would be left behind. Lance readjusted the strap on his shoulder and hurried along.

It was getting a lot warmer out, which Lance was thankful for. Every year, it felt like the cold would never leave and the entire town would just go into another ice age. Maybe Keith would take them somewhere warmer. Lance liked the warmth. It reminded him of Cuba and it replenished not only his skin, but also his soul.

When Lance arrived at school, he made his way through all the motions. After taking off his jacket and shoving it into his locker, he made his way to his classes. Everything that the teachers said just seemed to go in one ear and out the other, nothing sticking within Lance’s mind. Not that it mattered. Lance wouldn’t need whatever it was that he was learning, or not learning, as it were. His pencil just flickered against his open notebook, never making any sort of scribble across the page. Lance’s chin was cradled in his hand as he drifted in and out of focus. Most of his attention was lost in a daydream consisting of him and Keith laying in bed together. It made him grin and it made class bearable.

Rolo, Nyma, and Beezer were at the back of the class where they had always been. Rolo stared at Lance as if he were sizing him up. Lance barely paid it any mind; the anger in his eyes. What would Rolo even do? Lance had stood up once, and that was it. That should be it. Today, however, there was a smug lift to his mouth. It would have made Lance uncomfortable if he hadn’t been so lost in his own mind.

Beezer still had the bandage wrapped over his ear. It was a constant reminder to everyone that he had been brought to his knees by Lance, the scrawny loner kid who had been bullied since he had arrived in America. Beezer had a sharpness to his smile and a crazed gleam to his eye every time he faced Lance. More so than usual. But just as with Rolo, Lance’s mind was clouded by images of Keith’s beautiful smile and how he would get to see that every morning, and he didn’t notice.

Nyma had a dead look in her eye. It was unfamiliar on her. Beezer almost always had a glimmer like that, but never Nyma. When she made eye contact with Lance, a shiver ran up his spine. It was a haunting stare, as if someone had hollowed Nyma’s body out like a pumpkin on Halloween, leaving behind a husk of a person. Lance pretended that he hadn’t noticed, mostly because he wished he hadn’t.

Other than that, nothing was out of the ordinary for Lance. Everything passed by slowly and quickly all at once. Lance grabbed his things from his backpack and headed to the locker room with the intention of getting ready for strength training. He wandered past all the lockers and benches, ignoring the spilled pop can on the floor. Once he reached his locker, he put all his things inside, excluding his gym bag. Lance was really one of the only people who had stayed with the strength training program, so he wasn’t surprised that he had the place to himself, and he wasn’t bothered with the idea of changing out in the open.

Except, the change room wasn’t empty. As soon as Lance was finished tying the string of his shorts and pulling his shirt back down, he turned to head to the door. Rounding the corner, he found himself smacking right into the chest of someone. They grabbed him by the back of his shirt and yanked him backwards. Lance stared up at the people looming over him. Panic seeped into his veins instantly as he came face to face with Rolo’s lethal glare, Beezer’s wild stare, and Nyma’s vacant look, all narrowed in on Lance.

“I told you that you were going for a swim, you bastard, and that’s what you’re going to do,” Rolo hissed. He didn’t give Lance an opportunity to speak, instead dragging him to the back of the change room. Lance tripped, attempting to keep up. His head spun with confusion and fear, but everything became even more real as Lance was pulled through the back door leading to the school’s indoor pool.

“Wait, wait, don’t!” Lance sputtered as Rolo continued to lead across the pools tiled floor. Beezer and Nyma followed behind him until they all stopped at the side of the pool. Lance’s heart was so loud, filling up the intense silence. The water in the pool was calm and gentle, a direct contrast to the alarm that was pressing in on Lance.

Beezer’s cracked and twisted smile growing ever wider, he leaned in towards Lance menacingly. The action of his body had never been more crazed than in that moment and Lance could feel the terror all the way to his toes. He slowly brought a single finger up to his head, pointing to his wrapped-up ear. “You hit me pretty hard,” his wavering voice murmured at Lance, “but I don’t need to be able to hear to enjoy this.”

Lance’s blood ran cold. His eyes widened. He reached for Rolo’s arm, but he was too late. Suddenly, everything was upturned and swallowed in a blur of hazy blue. Water immediately sucked into Lance’s lungs rapidly. Lance flailed, waving his arms wildly until his head broke the surface of the water he had just been shoved into. He gasped for air, hacking and choking as he attempted to empty his lungs.

He received little reprieve, however, as a hand descended down upon Lance. Rough fingers fisted his hair and pulled upwards. Lance squeaked in pain, his own hands instinctively coming up to grab at the wrist. His feet kicked sporadically under the currents as he instinctively searched for something to stand on. Rolo was kneeling next to the pool with a disgusting smile curled over his features. Cruelty was painted on every part of his face. Lance struggled against the hold, but Rolo just held on tighter, lifting his head up a little farther.

“Here’s how this is going to work, yerd,” Rolo hissed, spitting along with his words. He removed a pocket knife from his pocket and flicked it open. Lance squirmed and dug his nails into Rolo’s arm desperately. Tears flowed from his eyes now, mixing with the chlorine water of the pool which splashed at his face. “You can try to hold your breath while I hold you under, or I can cut your ear off. It’s only fair, after all. An ear for an ear.”

“Please, don’t do this,” Lance weakly begged, still scratching Rolo’s arms.

Rolo huffed a laugh, “What’s it going to be?”

Lance took in a steady breath. “Listen,” he forced out, as calmly as he was able, “I’m sorry, okay? Please, you don’t have to cut off my ear.”

Rolo smirked, “That’s what I thought. Hold your breath!”

Lance’s eyes widened in horror as he saw the fatal smirk slither over Rolo’s face again. He had barely half a second to suck in a breath before Rolo was shoving him back under the water again, his hand still firm in his hair. Water flowed into his mouth, but he kept it shut for fear of sucking in more. Lance’s head throbbed with the force of Rolo’s hand and he tried to dig his nails underneath Rolo’s fingers. His eyes were closed and disorientated, but his tears still flowed into the pool.

Lance’s throat burned and his lungs were on fire. He had barely enough time to register that he needed to hold his breath, let alone enough time to actually take a deep breath. Lance’s chest ached, his body begging for Lance to take a breath, but he forced himself not to. Panic thrummed through him, lighting him on fire and twitching his fingers in frenzied movements. Lance reached up to grab at Rolo’s hand again, scratching his nails into the skin there as viscously as he could. Desperately, Lance scratched and clawed, struggling against the downward force of Rolo’s hand. Lance kicked violently, fighting for his life.

Everything seared with panic and pain within Lance’s body. Adrenaline pumped through his body, curtesy of his rapidly beating heart. Lance pleaded for something to give, but everything was quickly becoming shaky. His limbs felt heavy. Lance couldn’t tell the difference between the darkness of his eyelids and the darkness of unconsciousness anymore. How much time had passed? Lance wasn’t sure. He could feel the agony increasing with every second that ticked by. Lance’s hands felt so weak and limp as they scraped at Rolo’s arm, and yet the man never let him up.

He could feel it. He could feel himself dying and losing his consciousness. His nails latched onto Rolo, even as his legs began to lose their energy. Lance began to sink downwards, only held up by the hand fisted in his hair.

Lance knew that he couldn’t breathe in, but it was too much. His lungs burned raw. Without meaning too, completely out of instinct, Lance breathed in. Even with his failing wakefulness, Lance could feel the real panic surging through him. They were trying to kill him. Rolo was going to kill him and leave his dead body in the pool. Lance coughed into the water, sucking in more water as he weakly flailed. His head spun, dizziness taking over. He wanted to scream, he wanted to force himself up to the surface to breathe, he wanted everything to stop, but Rolo just forced Lance’s head under the water some more.

Suddenly, the arm above Lance came away. It was no longer latched to Lance’s head with his fingers ravelled through Lance’s hair. With one weak scrape at Rolo’s hand, it just floated off. Lance was holding Rolo’s arm in his hands below the water. It wasn’t connected to Rolo’s body anymore. Then, a hand gripped his upper arm and yanked him up quickly. It felt like ages as Lance was pulled through the water, but he finally broke the surface. Fresh air surrounded him like a warm blanket protecting him from the cold. Lance could barely see through his bleary eyes, but he didn’t bother to fight whoever was dragging him over the edge of the pool and across the tile. Rolo’s disembodied arm was still in his grasp.

Lance sputtered and coughed the entire time he was saved. Tears were welling in his eyes and flowing down the sides of his eyes, over his temples. Lance didn’t even bother to fight them. He didn’t have enough energy to full out sob, but he could feel it in his burning chest that he wanted to cry. The sweet relief from the water was so overwhelming. Lance had never been so grateful for oxygen in his life. He rolled onto his side, hacking and vomiting water out onto the tiled floor. Everything was still shaky, including Lance himself, and his heart was beating a mile a minute, but he knew then he was safe. With a final gasp, Lance dropped back onto the floor and let his eyelids close.

Lungs sucked in as much air as they could get, relishing in the cool, chlorine-scented freedom. It extinguished the fire that had seared Lance’s body. He hacked, the action wracking his entire body and making him shudder. With each force to his lungs, he could feel more water trailing up his throat and it stung, but he couldn't stop himself from coughing.

Lance could vividly remember what the beautiful blue water in Cuba looked like. He could recall the feeling of being alive that had always been instilled within Lance when he stood in the sand of Varadero Beach, but this was nothing like that. Lance had never been afraid of the water, even when the roaring waves threatened to overturn his boat or his floatie. This, however, was not that. Lance had almost drowned.

As his breathing returned to normal, and his coughing began to lessen, Lance opened his eyes again. He came face to face with Keith, who was kneeling next to him with a worried expression. His long, black hair was dishevelled, windblown, and held back. There was blood all over his face and shirt.

Lance weakly smiled and huffed out a laugh that was really more of a wheeze.

“Are you alive?” Keith asked.

Lance couldn’t take his eyes off of Keith. He wheezed out, “Yeah.” His voice was high-pitched and strained, stripping itself raw as he forced his words out. Lance's voice was almost unrecognizable. He felt like he was drowning in the air itself and his chest heaved a little bit more.

Keith cupped Lance’s jaw gently with a bloodied and sopping wet hand. There was regret in his eyes as he met Lance’s gaze. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he vehemently whispered.

“’S’kay,” Lance huffed. He coughed again before leaning farther into Keith’s hand.

“I should have been here sooner,” Keith whined. He sounded agonized. Lance could see the tears that streamed down his boyfriend’s cheeks, carving paths in the fresh blood that painted his face.

Reaching up with all the strength he could find in his shaking limb, Lance hooked his arm around Keith’s neck. Lance tugged him down. Keith instantly got the hint, wrapping his arms around Lance’s torso carefully. He sat back on his legs, hoisting Lance up with him until they were both just sitting on the pool floor, holding each other. Lance could hear Keith’s unsteady breathing near his ear and he found solace in the knowledge that Keith was there for him, they were there for each other, they were safe.

Peeking over Keith’s shoulder, Lance could see Rolo’s decapitated corpse dangling halfway into the pool. His blood leaked out of his neck and into the pool water, staining it with red. Lance noticed Rolo’s head floating at the other end of the pool, his beanie slipping off his head as the ripples in the water rocked it around. Rolo’s arm was on the tile by Lance’s foot, a reminder of what had just occurred. Nyma was in a heap at Rolo’s side, her hair strewn about and stained red in a mixture of hers and Rolo’s blood. Beezer was down the pool a little bit more, as if he had tried to run away. He, too, was limp in a puddle of blood.

They were all dead.

Lance stared at them, unfeeling. A sharp hacking laugh forced its way out of his throat as he stared between them. Even with the rancid smell of blood and the horrifically gory image before him, even with the ringing in his ears and the taste of chlorine stinging his tongue, Lance couldn’t pretend to feel regret or remorse from their death. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t wanted to stab them all before.

Lance let his eyes slip close and hugged Keith closer. Keith breathed in deeply and turned his head to kiss Lance’s cheek. It was a relieved and desperate kiss that left Lance feeling as though he were back in the moments when they were wrapped up in an oversized hoodie with the sun warming his back. Keith kissed him again, a choked sob puffing out against Lance’s neck. He was burying his face into the crevice of Lance’s neck and holding Lance, bundling him in his arms as if this was the last time he would ever see the boy again.

“Keith,” Lance whispered into his boyfriend’s hair, “take me away from here.”

 

◊ ◊ ◊

 

The world outside passed so quickly, everything becoming a shadowed blur. Not that there was much to see anyway. Outside of town, there were just a lot of empty fields with a few hay bails. Lance could see the sky though, if he pressed himself farther into the arm he was leaning against and titled his head back. It was a dark, midnight sort of sky, with stars lighting the way all along. It should have felt ominous, the way the window reflected the lit cabin of the train car, obscuring what was beyond the glass and showing your own exhausted face back at you, but it didn’t. Lance could practically see the sun rising on the horizon, if he looked hard enough. Keith had told him that they would arrive at dawn.

Lance shifted his focus, no longer straining his eyes out the window to see nothing. He followed the reflection of Keith upwards until he could see his face. His intense, violet eyes were watching Lance. A gentle smiled accompanied his stare, softening Keith’s otherwise intimidating gaze. Lance smiled back and cuddled farther into Keith’s arm. His fingers tangled themselves in the fabric of Keith’s sleeve as he fiddled with it absently, but Keith didn’t seem to mind.

“Are you tired?” Keith asked quietly. There was no one else on the train, but it would have ruined the atmosphere if he had spoken louder.

Lance hummed in agreement, his eyelids fluttering just from the mere mention of fatigue.

“You can take a nap. You don’t have to stay awake for the entire ride there,” Keith told him, smiling at Lance’s dopey expression.

“I wanna see where we’re going though,” Lance argued. He sounded just as spaced out as he felt.

Keith snorted, refocusing his eyes so he could see everything outside the window.

Everything was perfectly serene on the train, and Lance found no problem with relaxing for a moment. As they rode away, past field and forests, Lance couldn’t help but feel as if everything that had burdened him was unravelling itself from Lance. The farther he was taken away from the town, the farther he was from all the things that had plagued him for so many long years. He was moving on and he was becoming stronger.

Lance knew that running away didn’t make him stronger, but the fact that he was following his own path and taking control of his own life, that was what made him stronger.

It also helped that Rolo, Nyma, and Beezer wouldn’t be able to bother him ever again. He still felt nothing when he thought back on that. And maybe he should have. Maybe it should have been something that Lance thought about and was bothered by, but it wasn’t. Lance had to wonder if he was a hypocrite for yelling at Keith before. It wasn’t that Lance wanted to kill people, because he didn’t. The reality was that Lance enjoyed the feeling of control and revenge that had washed over him in seeing that he had finally, truly been freed of those three. It was a sick sort of feeling, but Lance didn’t mind it.

“What’re you thinking about?” Keith asked.

Lance’s attention swiftly pulled right back to Keith, leaving his thoughts behind. “What?” he muttered, confused.

Keith tilted his head. “You looked really intense for a moment. I was just wondering what you were thinking about,” Keith clarified.

The thought hadn’t crossed Lance’s mind until then, but now that it was planted within his brain, he couldn’t shake it. “Keith,” he started carefully, “when we get to wherever we’re going, you’re going to have to drink blood still, right?”

Keith’s eyebrows shot up and his body tensed under Lance’s weight. Then, with a sigh, he admitted, “Yeah, I will need to. Only every four weeks, roughly…” There was a resigned sort of tone to Keith’s voice, like he wasn’t comfortable talking about it. Lance briefly wondered if Keith ever pretended that he was a regular human instead of a vampire. He hoped Keith didn’t.

“Can I choose who you shank?” Lance suddenly asked. He had been hoping to go about it with more grace than that, but then he realized that there really wasn’t a way to do that.

Keith wasn’t staring at Lance in the reflection of the window anymore. Instead, he had turned his entire body, nearly knocking Lance off his arm, just to stare down at him. There was a guarded expression in his eyes when Lance glanced up, as if he were deciding what Lance’s intentions were. They stayed like that for a moment, the only sound being the rhythmic tapping of the wheels against the tracks outside.

“You want to pick who I feed on…?” he repeated, a worried look on his face.

Lance shuffled in his seat, suddenly feeling very exposed with the way that Keith was staring at him. “If that’s weird…” he trailed off, not knowing where he was going with that.

Keith whispered back, “Why?”

Lance paused. Revenge. He wanted to play god, in a way. He wanted to feel on top of the world with Keith. Killing wasn’t something that Lance liked and it wasn’t something he felt comfortable witnessing or participating in, but if it had to be done, then a little vigilante killing would be the best way to go about it. And it was wrong. Lance knew it was wrong. But something dark and twisted in his heart, the part of him that had been shoved under the water by Rolo, the part of him that had watched a man loom over Keith’s sleeping body, the part of him that had witnessed the bad things in the world, that part of him wanted to choose. That was the part of him that whispered back, in an eerily normal voice, _‘Is it really that wrong?’_

Suddenly, Keith’s arm slithered out from Lance’s clutch and wrapped around Lance fully. He tugged Lance farther into his chest, holding him securely, yet gently. Lance glanced up at Keith, surprised, but Keith didn’t pay him any mind. He just leaned in and kissed Lance softly on the lips. With a grunt of joy, Lance pressed back, returning the kiss. When they pulled away, Keith was smiling down at his boyfriend with such deep affection and patience.

“I think I get it,” Keith admitted, staring directly into Lance’s eyes. “You can help choose,” he agreed.

Lance’s smile widened. He didn’t want this to be a game of killing people, because that’s not what it was. If he ever turned into that, he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself, and he wouldn’t be able to face his mother ever again. This was just Lance taking control of his own revenge, side by side with Keith. Just how Lance hoped it would be for a long while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love this chapter. Too bad it's so close to the end :(


	18. Merlot Red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, friends.  
> I also wanna mention that at some point in this story I think I said something about there being a longest chapter. But then I had another idea for this chapter and added onto it so now _this_ chapter is the longest one. It's right on the edge of 6k words. It's the last chapter though, so it's what all you kind people deserve. Enjoy.

The gentle light of the sun shone through the glass panes, decorating the garden and highlighting the vibrant colours of every plant. All around, the flowers and leaves shimmered, a maze of solid and pure hues. The scent of soil and morning dew permeated the air, which settled a soothing feeling over Keith, like a comfortable blanket. He smiled at his glorious garden, a bubble of contentment tinged with pride welling up within him. It was everything that he had ever wanted.

After two years of travelling and saving up money, while working out a plan – with the help of Lance, of course – Keith could finally afford to purchase the greenhouse he had always wanted, and it was a home, a place he could feel warm and safe. He had just finally finished setting everything up. It hadn’t taken long to set the shop up for business, but the flowers needed to be grown for a little while before Keith deemed them good enough to sell. And finally, Keith had given them the pass. They were opening up for the first time, and Keith couldn’t be more excited. Soon, customers would come from all over town to buy his plants. His and Lance’s business would take off and they would make money the honest way. He had never actually set up shop before, and he had never planned to stay in one place for so long, but being with Lance had changed so much for Keith. Where he once felt a heavy grey weighing down on him and forcing him from city to city, always running from himself, he now felt a warmth, a desire to settle down with Lance and be happy, an urging press in his heart that told him to give Lance the world.

Maybe they would make friends while they were there. Keith hadn’t ever really stayed anywhere long enough to make many friends. Lance was one in a handful of people who Keith had ever bothered to open up to. How Keith longed to be able to connect with others, and not in the way he was used to, via draining people of their blood. That was still something they had to do though. Keith was still a vampire, after all. They had a system for that as well though. Keith, being an expert in taking blood and leaving nothing behind, had devised a way to sneak away from town once every couple of weeks to grab a drink. He could even manage to cleanly take people when Lance requested someone from town disappear. It wasn’t a moral operation, but it was a slick one.

Lance had asked Keith on numerous occasions if Keith would turn him into a vampire too so that they could be together and Lance could better understand. He didn't want Keith to feel alone ever again. Keith always refused though. Maybe one day he could turn Lance, but not now. They'd only been together for two years and they'd only known each other for around three. Lance really needed to think about how much he wanted a life like that, how much he really cared about Keith, what living for two thousand years really meant. He would outlive all of his friends and family. He would outlive every single person alive on the Earth, and he would do it again and again, for generations. It wasn't just a decision to make on the fly, and it wasn't a decision that Keith wanted Lance to make just so that Keith wouldn't be lonely. This was Lance's life he was gambling. _Maybe one day,_ Keith would always tell Lance, _but not today._

Keith, with his legs dangling off the deck next to his plants and his eyes lidded in satisfaction, sighed happily. He lifted a gloved hand to run it over the plant leaf next to his leg. The light flitted over his covered hand. He reached his other hand up to adjust the bright red sunhat that flopped over his face, protecting him against the light. He had been spending a lot more time in the sun after he and Lance had left Lance’s home town. Obviously, he wasn’t in the actual sun or he would die, but he was leaving the house in the day a lot more. Lance was the one who had helped encourage him, even going as far as buying the hat for Keith.

At that moment, Keith startled out of his thoughts when the door to the greenhouse opened. He flicked his attention over to where Lance was meandering through the entrance which led to the shopfront. Keith couldn’t help the smile that worked its way onto his face if he tried. Lance made eye contact with Keith, grinning back just as much as he made his way over to Keith. In his hands, he held a plastic bag, which Keith could smell perfectly from where he was seated. Twisting his body around to better face Lance, Keith strained his eyes to see into the bag.

“Hey, babe!” Lance called cheerily.

Keith’s eyes trailed up to meet Lance’s eyes. “Hey,” he replied lazily.

Lance shuffled over and crouched down next to Keith. After passing the bag to his boyfriend, he kicked his legs out and settled down on the deck. Keith wasn’t paying attention to him anymore though, busy digging through the bag. A gentle press of lips to his cheek distracted him, drawing him back to Lance once more. Lance was smiling, still leaned into Keith. With a rumble of a laugh in the back of his throat, Keith met him halfway, kissing Lance chastely on the lips, the hint of a grin on the edge of his mouth. They both pulled away to stare lovingly into each other’s eyes.

The aroma from the bag curled its way around Keith’s mind once more and he turned back to the contents of it. “What’d you get?” Keith questioned, ruffling around once again in the bag. He pulled out a lumpy brown paper wrapping with a little sticker and some twine holding it all together. Keith’s eyes brightened excitedly.

“Open it,” Lance instructed, a hint of a laugh in his voice as he watched his boyfriend eagerly flipping the package around in his hands.

Keith didn’t waste another second before he was ripping the twine off and unwrapping the paper. A soft gasp escaped him. “You got me a country ham?!” he frantically exclaimed.

Lance just laughed at his side. “It’s smoked and cooked too,” he casually added.

 _“Lance,”_ Keith whined, already drooling at the sight of the beautiful slab of meat. Lance really spoiled him, and he couldn’t deny that he loved it, but that wasn’t to say that Keith didn’t absolutely adore going out at night to pick stuff up for Lance, just to treat him.

Beside him, Lance pulled out a different brown bag from the plastic bag. It had the McDonald’s logo across the side of it, and he pulled a wrapped burger out of the bag. Although Keith couldn’t eat the same food that Lance could, they still ate together. Even when Keith was drinking blood, it was from a bottle or a glass so that it felt more normal to both of them. Neither of them ever made a big deal out of it. Lance began to vacuum up his food with grace while Keith took a huge bite of his ham. They both rested there, gazing out over the deck at the plants of their garden, chewing on their respective meals.

“It’s almost time to open,” Lance commented wistfully.

Keith hummed happily, quickly swallowing down the piece of ham he had been chewing on. “I can’t believe we’re opening a greenhouse,” he answered, just as dazed.

Lance smiled, nudging Keith in the arm with his own shoulder. “Believe it, because this is what we worked for,” he told Keith, a proud note in his voice. His eyes shimmered with an excited gleam.

Keith let Lance’s words sink in, mixing around within his mind. For all the years that Keith had been alive, he had never had an opportunity to share his love of plants with others. Even as he was about to open up his new shop with Lance and have everything he hadn’t ever even known that he had wanted, he still couldn’t help the nervousness he felt bubbling in his stomach. Keith wasn’t really sure what to expect with all of this. Obviously, he was going to meet new people and be part of the local community, but was Keith ready for that? He had been wondering if he would be able to fit in with everyone around.

Even with all his worries, Lance had always been there to help wash away any hesitation that Keith had had before. Whenever Keith ran into a problem and felt like he was stuck, Lance would smile kindly at him, hold his hand, and fix everything with just a few words. Lance always had a way of making Keith’s troubles feel like bite-sized, manageable little pieces, even when they seemed like unscalable mountains inside Keith’s mind. Especially with the sun. When they had first decided to open the greenhouse, Keith had always wondered how he would interact with the customers if he couldn’t be in the light, but Lance always had solutions for everything, even that.

So, as Lance and Keith both finished up their respective meals, they continued to chat about this and that from their days, but the conversation always seemed to steer itself back to the opening of the plant shop, which was only a couple minutes away. They had invited the entire street to come celebrate the opening of the shop, and many people – who Keith didn’t know yet – had informed them that they would be coming by to see it. They also wanted to meet the two plant shop owners since they were new to town. All around, it was going to be a very relaxing and exciting afternoon, if only Keith could figure out what to say to anyone.

“Well,” Lance drawled, glancing down at his phone to check the time, “it’s about time that we unlock those doors. The town is waiting on us, after all.”

Keith took in a deep breath and clenched his fingers around the wooden edge of the deck. He couldn’t help the way he tensed up as the time grew nearer. “Alright,” he huffed out, all in one unsteady breath.

“Hey, don’t be nervous! They’re going to love our shop! I mean, of course they are, I designed it and I have an expert eye about these things!” Lance joked, sarcastically studying his nails to give off an air of apathy.

Keith smirked in amusement as he watched his boyfriend’s antics. He raised an eyebrow. “Of course,” he agreed, just as sarcastic as Lance.

Lance scooted closer then, dropping the charade for a brief moment as he pressed a lingering kiss to Keith’s grinning lips. “They’re going to love you too,” he whispered. It was meant as a reassurance. Lance always was able to tell when Keith was feeling self conscious. He was observant that way, but it still impressed Keith every time, and warmed his chest up. Once more, Lance slid the goofy look of mock cockiness back onto his face before adding, “None of them will love you as much as I do though, and if anyone does, then I’ll just have to joust them for your hand.” He shrugged simply.

Hiding his laughter beneath the click of his tongue, Keith rolled his eyes. “I’m not a prize to be won, Lance,” he dismissed.

Lance didn’t even falter, he just leaned closer to Keith, grabbed his hand, and planted a quick kiss to the back of Keith’s palm. “No,” he agreed easily, a dopey smile on his face that had Keith’s heart melting, “but I still feel like a winner.”

Keith snorted at the cheesy statement, but he kept his hand in Lance’s. He would be lying if he said that that comment hadn’t gone straight to his heart. He would pretend it was lame if asked, but with the way Lance looked at him and the airy tone of his voice which was just short of being anything joking, Keith really felt like he was being showered in love.

“If you’re a winner, then I’m a champion,” Keith flirted back. He swooped in, stealing a quick kiss from Lance.

Humming, Lance smiled, content. “C’mon then, Mr. Blue Ribbon, let’s go open up our shop and grace the people with our presence,” Lance suggested.

Before Keith could agree, he was already dragging him up by the hand and pulling him to the front of the store. Keith’s large-brimmed hat caught on the edges of the doorframe, but Lance grabbed onto it, using it as leverage to lean in and kiss Keith’s cheek, just for good measure. That time, Keith couldn’t suppress his small chuckle.

The entire shop was set up pristinely after a week of work. Lance wanted it to look perfect for the aesthetic reasons, but Keith just wanted it to be successful. There were a few disagreements about placement and such, but once they had worked out all the kinks in their layout, they had settled on something that they were both happy with. Although there was some compromise, it turned out much better in the end, and both could agree that the final product was everything they had wanted.

There were shelves upon shelves of potted plants lining the windows, displaying the flowers that Keith was so proud of, but also offering them the best opening for the sun to reach. They were arranged by colour, enticing any passersby into the store. The area of the store outside was also adorned to draw the eye closer. Above the door and all along the perimeter of the store, there were planters hanging with a variety of eye-catching flowers.

Inside, there were also many different tables and stands to make the place easier to navigate and easier on the eye. Hanging plants were set up from the ceiling too, just to maximize the space and to make it feel more like a jungle of plants, but they were nothing like the low ones that Keith had tacked up in the dingy apartment that he had lived in when he had met Lance. The ones that you hit your head on when you weren’t paying attention. No, these ones were elegant and just high enough that you could grace the vine tendrils with your fingertips as you passed by through the store. Keith loved them like that.

Paintings were strung up on the walls, all in blacks in whites to offset the vibrant colours of the petals. They needed something on their walls, but not something that would take the focus away. Some of the pots were weaved of basket or homemade from clay, and there were a couple signs around the shop set up from chalkboard, which Lance decided he would take to maintaining once they officially opened.

Lance had convinced Keith that the little touches like that were what really made the place. Keith had just assumed it was all about advertising the plants, but Lance tod him that the best way to keep people in was to make them feel at home. And that was also why they had added a cozy little couch and coffee table in the far corner of the shop, across from the greenhouse door. They had enough room for it, so they had figured, why not?

As Keith stood in the middle of the shop next to a little ceramic frog that Lance had picked out because he had thought it was cute. From beneath his red sunhat, Keith gazed around at the plants and decorations everywhere. It was so much more than Keith had ever thought he would have. Keith had never been a domestic person, or a person to foolishly ream for things that he knew he wouldn’t be able to achieve, even with thousands of years to do it, but seeing this all come together and watching his boyfriend flounce around the store with a grin so bright it rivalled the sun, Keith began to fully realize that he could be happy in life.

“Ready, Keith?” Lance excitedly asked, hurrying around a stand to grab Keith’s hand and pull him closer to the door.

Light streamed through the light, falling gently over Keith’s covered arm. He couldn’t feel any warmth from beneath the gloves and long sleeves, but he imagined it. Keith’s floppy hat toppled down over his face as he stared at the lock of the door. Lance dangled the keys from his fingers and jingled them together. Then, with a swipe of his hand, Keith scooped up the keys and pushed them into the lock. They both glanced at each other, smiling and jittery.

“Let’s do this,” Keith smirked. Without any hesitation, Keith flicked the key, effectively opening Blood Rose Gardens for the very first time. In that moment, Keith felt a wave of emotion wash over him. It was as if, all at once, everything was made real in Keith’s mind. He was really doing this. He was opening a flower shop. He was there, with the love of his life. This was all happening. He took in a deep breath, then turned the doorknob.

A rush of warm summer air flowed in through the door, billowing Lance’s hair and rippling Keith’s hat. Outside, there were a few people who were wandering on the street, all chatting and enjoying the sun’s heat. There were a good number of people who seemed to be heading in the direction of their flower shop. Keith’s heart leaped at the idea of interacting with the people he would be living near from then on out.

Keith ducked back inside the store and shuffled away from the windows nervously.

Lance didn’t seem to be bothered by the new people who were fast approaching the front of the shop. “Welcome to Blood Rose Gardens! We hope you’re having a great day!” he greeted as a group of people stepped up to the front of the store. They lingered near the displays outside, oohing at the beauty of the arrangements.

“Good afternoon! These are all so beautiful!” one lady complimented as she entered through the door. She was a lovely young woman in a sundress. Her fluffy ivory-tinted hair contrasted beautifully against the rich darkness of her skin. The awestruck smile across her face was brilliant as she explored the shop with her bright eyes.

“Yeah, you’ve really put this place back together,” a man agreed. He seemed to be with the gal as she turned back to nod at him. The white tuft of hair set apart from the rest of his black undercut matched with the girl’s hair. He was a tall and strong man who appeared as though he could snap you like a twig, although all the threat was taken out by the gentle smile on his face.

Lance didn’t falter, immediately sliding up next to Keith and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “Thanks! But the real flower magic was all done by this guy,” Lance told them happily, the smile clear in his voice. Keith was suddenly thankful for the hat atop his head because it effectively hid his blush.

“He can barely look after himself, let alone a plant,” Keith joked, feeling a little bit less anxious with Lance for support.

“I want to argue, but I’m just the looks behind the operation,” Lance laughed. The couple laughed along with him, relaxing the longer they stuck around. “Anyway, the name’s Lance, and this is my boyfriend, Keith! We just moved in around here, and I have to say, I’m already impressed with how nice the people and the weather are!”

“Well, nice to meet you Lance and Keith,” the lady greeted. “Welcome to the neighbourhood! I’m Allura, that’s Shiro,” she pointed to the other man, who waved with a prosthetic arm which Keith hadn’t noticed before, “and we just couldn’t wait to come see the new garden shop! The old one was getting a bit run down, but this is just… stunning!”

Before anyone could say anything else, a loud clamoring outside alerted everyone to the entrance of the shop. “Holy shit!” a male voice shouted. It didn’t take long to figure out who it was because suddenly, a young girl with short caramel-coloured hair and round glasses came stumbling into the store, clearly out of breath. Seconds later, she was joined by a taller, long-haired boy who held a strong resemblance to her. They both panted for a moment before the boy shot up, ramrod straight.

“You cheated!” he accused.

The girl laughed breathlessly. “You’re just slow!” she shot back.

“You tripped me.”

She just waved him off with the flick of her hand, an amusemed expression on her face. “That’s what a loser would say.” Finally, they both seemed to register that everyone in the shop was staring at them after their loud entrance. “Hi!” the girl cheerily smiled. “We saw the flyer for the new garden store opening up. This is it, right? This place is insane!”

The boy behind her grinned as he began wandering around the store. “This is dope,” he announced, gesturing to the entire store all at once.

“Welcome!” Lance called, not nearly as perturbed by their appearance as Keith was. “You’re right on time, we just opened for the first time! My name’s Lance, and this is Keith.”

“Nice! I’m Pidge, that nerd over there is my brother,” she added, as though even mentioning her brother was an unrivalled pain.

From where he was inspecting a potted cactus by the window, the boy called, “I have a name! It’s Matt!”

Pidge rolled her eyes, and Keith couldn’t help but snort. He liked Pidge already.

At that moment, two more people came into the shop, although much less frantically than the two siblings who had come in prior to them. One was a very tall man with an orange bandana wrapped around his forehead and a casual vest. The other was a lady with giant hoop earrings and a clean bob haircut. They were laughing about something as they entered the shop.

Matt and Pidge at the other end of the shop were engaged in conversation about a row of cacti while Allura and Shiro investigated the blooming flowers by the front. This left Lance and Keith perfectly free to go greet the newcomers.

“Hello! Welcome! The name’s Lance,” he greeted, a bright smile on his face.

Keith could feel a gentle sort of warmth emanating off the couple. He wasn’t sure what it was about the pair, but they immediately made him feel at ease. “Welcome,” Keith softly spoke. It drew the attention of the two smiling customers, as well as Lance. “I’m Keith.” He was beginning to feel more comfortable in greeting people who came to the shop. He didn’t want to completely shut himself out, but he also didn’t want to make a bad first impression. It was so much easier to introduce himself to people when he knew he was going to kill them later. It didn’t matter in those instances.

“Hi! I can’t believe we have new neighbours now, that’s so exciting! I’m Hunk, and this is Shay,” the man replied.

“Hello,” Shay greeted. “Your shop is quite lovely,” she commented, a tender smile on her face as she glanced around.

“No kidding,” Hunk agreed. He let out a low whistle as his eyes wandered the shop.

From across the shop, Allura called over, “Shay! They have Balmera Bluebells here and they’re stunning!”

Shay immediately perked up and hurried over to where Allura and Shiro were staring at a potted plant. “Oh, they are! They are as beautiful as the ones in my grandmother’s garden!” Her hands grazed the petals as she smiled dreamily at the plant.

Hunk watched her with loving eyes, an amused grin tugging at his lips. Keith couldn’t help but feel a wave of love and warmth just by being near the two. They seemed like a perfect match, and he hadn’t even known them that long.

Lance must have been thinking the same thing, because he awed softly, swatted Hunk’s arm, and cheerily said, “You two are adorable!”

Hunk laughed heartily. “Thank you!”

Suddenly, Pidge poked her head out from around a shelf, right next to Keith. “They’re always this cute,” she informed Keith and Lance, her voice dropping in a way that made it seem she was bitter about the fact.

Matt appeared from around the shelf then too, nearly trampling his sister in the process. “And it never stops being heartwarming!” he cooed, placing a flat hand to his heart.

Everyone around them laughed good-naturedly, even Keith. He could feel himself slowly growing attached to these people who he had only met moments prior. They liked his flowers too, which was something that made Keith’s heart sing with pride.

Suddenly, Hunk gasped, “We should have a welcoming barbecue!”

Pidge and Matt immediately agreed, almost as if their lives depended on the barbecue. Allura cheered, deeming it a fitting suggestion for the arrival of the new flower shop owners. Shiro complimented Hunk’s idea, already giving a few proposals on where they could host it. Shay approved of it as well, her eyes creasing up as she beamed at him. Lance couldn’t have been more excited at the idea of a get-together with food if he tried, and it had Keith smiling dopily at his boyfriend.

“That’s a grand idea, Hunk!” a new voice approved. Everyone turned to the door to watch as an orange-haired man with a prominent moustache popped his head in through the entrance. Keith wasn’t sure who the man was, having never seen him before in his life, and upon looking to Lance, he could see the confusion in his eyes. They were the only ones, however, because the rest of the room erupted into excited greetings.

“Coran!” Allura called, a bright smile on her face. “I’m so glad you’re here! Would you look at this place? Can you believe it?” she praised, gesturing around.

Coran’s eyes shined as he studied the room. “Why, it reminds me of the flower fields back in my old flight training days!” He stepped inside, his posture impossibly straight. Keith could feel the same comfort from this man – Coran – as he had from Hunk, making him instantly like the older man. “Coran Hieronymus Wimbleton Smythe!” he greeted, shooting his hand out at Keith.

Cautiously, Keith met the offer with a gloved hand of his own. Keith wasn’t one to give weak handshakes, often accidentally putting in too much force as he wasn’t used to handshaking, but this Coran fellow had quite the grip. Just shaking his hand made Keith match his posture a little bit more. “Keith Kogane,” he replied with. Keith was a fan of this short and simple, yet warm and inviting sort of introduction. It was more his speed.

Coran then turned to Lance and offered the same welcoming hand, which Lance easily accepted with a pleased grin. “Lance McClain!” Lance announced, making Coran’s eyes scrunch up as he smiled beneath his moustache.

Everyone around him began to chat once again, pointing to the various flowers and giving their opinions. They were all engaged in conversations. Hunk could be heard planning the barbecue with Hunk while Shay and Allura studied the display of tulips by the far wall. Coran seemed particularly invested in a story that Lance was telling.

A sudden voice drew in Keith’s attention and halted his mental evaluation of the people in his shop. From Keith’s side, Pidge tilted her head to better see Keith’s face under the sunhat. There was a confused look in her eye as she asked, “Why are you wearing gloves in this heat?”

Keith blinked once, then glanced down at his hands, his skin completely obscured by the black material they were wrapped in. “Because the sun burns me,” he answered simply. He could feel everyone’s eyes on him.

“Man, I hear you,” Matt agreed from behind Pidge. He leaned his arm heavily onto her shoulder, earning a grunt from his sibling. “The sun just absolutely cooks me. I can’t leave the house without sunscreen in the summer.”

Keith nodded along, although he wasn’t sure they were on the same page. “No, I literally burst into flames in the sun,” he explained, trying to get his message across. “It’s because I–”

“–Have a skin condition!” Lance interjected, sliding up out of nowhere. He rapidly snaked his arm around Keith’s shoulders and hugged him inwards, too tightly. Keith squawked at the sudden motion, his hat jarring itself out of place a little bit. “Photodermatitis. He’s allergic to the sun. He gets all these red blotches that burn, and then we have to go to the doctor, and it’s just better to avoid all that,” Lance laughed awkwardly.

Pidge’s eyes widened sympathetically. “Dude, that’s shit,” she said.

Lance didn’t even let Keith breathe a word before he was already filling in the gap, “Yep, it makes beach days harder, but it also completes his emo boy aesthetic.” Matt and Pidge snorted. Keith scowled.

“I do not have–”

Lance cut him off with a loud exclamation of, “but I love him anyway!” completing it with a loud laugh that drowned out Keith’s complaint. He turned to plant a kiss on Keith’s cheek, a little too close to his ear. When he pulled away, he quickly whispered, “Stop telling people you’re a bloodsucker.” Keith frowned, but Lance was already facing Matt and Pidge again as if he hadn’t said anything.

Keith just didn’t get what was wrong.

The rest of the day was spent greeting new people and chatting with the friends that they had made. Their first day at the flower shop had gone more than perfect, and the two of them couldn’t have been happier with their newfound life together. It wasn’t going to be easy to run their flower shop, not with Keith’s limitations, but they were willing to work through it. Keith felt like he was seeing the light for the first time, and Lance had never felt more at ease in life. They were happy.

Just then, a brown-haired gal in overalls wandered into the store. The store was getting pretty busy and everyone was too preoccupied to notice her arrival, but she frowned as she inspected the different flowers near the shop entrance. As she made her way by the stalls of plants, she grew closer to Lance and Keith.

“Hi, welcome to Blood Rose Gardens! I’m Lance, and this is Keith!” Lance greeted her, as characteristically friendly as ever.

The girl stood up a little straighter and nodded. “Yeah, hi… I’m Olia,” she answered, a little awkwardly, as if she didn't wish to be talking with Lance right then.

Lance just continued to smile, not at all put-off by her demeanor. “Well, feel free to check around the store and if you need any help, ask Keith, here. He knows everything about anything plant related!” He patted Keith’s shoulder and Keith couldn’t help but roll his eyes as Lance’s compliment, even as his heart leaped a little.

Olia nodded curtly before wandering away to continue inspecting the flower arrangements near the back. There was something off about her.

Immediately after she was gone, Lance pressed in close to Keith again, quickly hissing an excited, _“She’s perfect,”_ into Keith’s ear. He spoke in Spanish, something he usually only did to keep their conversations secret. The walls had ears.

Keith raised an eyebrow before mumbling back in Spanish, _“I don’t need anymore for a few weeks.”_

Lance impatiently tilted his head from side to side as if weighing Keith’s words. _“Yeah, I know,”_ he drawled, _“but I’m just thinking ahead.”_

 _“What happened to not choosing anyone close to us?”_ Keith questioned. He busied himself with a daffodil pot in front of him so that anyone nearby wouldn’t find his whispered conversation with Lance too suspicious.

Shrugging, Lance murmured back, _“I just think a little change could be nice.”_

Keith snorted and plucked a rogue daffodil out of a pot near the back of the shelf. He turned to Lance and gently pressed the stem behind his ear. It complemented his shining smile brilliantly and Keith contently hummed. _“If she’s perfect, then I guess I have to,”_ Keith replied sarcastically. He was learning very quickly that there wasn’t a lot he wouldn’t do for Lance.

 

◊ ◊ ◊

 

The door to Pidge’s room slammed open, nearly breaking the doorstopper right off the wall entirely. She jumped, causing her headphones to slide down her head. Ripping them off the rest of the way, she squinted in the darkness, trying her hardest to see who the unnamed intruder was. It was difficult in the darkness, especially after staring at the illuminated computer screen for so long. She wasn’t expecting anyone, and certainly not at – she glanced to the clock – 3:00 am.

“Pidge!” the person hissed. They quickly shuffled into the room, shutting the door behind them, albeit much gentler.

“Matt?” Pidge called back. “What the fuck are you doing? You scared the shit out of me,” she whispered. She wasn’t sure why they were whispering. Anyone who was asleep before was definitely awake after the door was blasted into the wall.

Matt’s face became clear as he got closer to her bed, her computer highlighting his features. And suddenly, Pidge wished she couldn’t see the person in the dark, because Matt had the look of a crazed man. His eyes were blown wide and wild as he stared intently at Pidge. “I realized something!” he whisper-shouted.

“And it couldn’t wait until morning…?” she raised an eyebrow, her fingers twitching impatiently above her keyboard.

“No!” Matt insisted. “You know those new neighbours with the flower shop we met today?”

Pidge squinted, confused, “Uh, yeah? It happened today… I didn’t forget already…”

Matt didn’t even pause to think about her response, already leaping right into his next point. Matt was usually one for sleeping on time while Pidge was the one to stay up through the night, so for him to be up, it must have been a really important realization. He seriously looked like he was a walking corpse, and the eerie lighting wasn’t doing him any favours.

“They’re vampires,” he breathed.

Pidge didn’t speak. A moment passed with just Pidge staring at her brother, face completely blank, and her brother staring back, crazed in the way his eyes gleamed.

“What…?” she finally forced out.

“Think about it!” Matt continued. He moved away from the bed to wave his hands around wildly. “The sunhat, the gloves, the fake photodermatitis claims. The evidence is there! Sun allergy? That’s not a thing!”

Pidge watched him with a concerned expression. “Sun allergies are real, Matt…”

“Then why were they being suspicious about it?!” Matt whirled on her, startling her a little bit with his suddenness.

“Maybe they didn’t want to talk about it…?” she suggested.

Matt smiled, making him look even more insane when paired with his deep-set bags and his wagging finger. “No, no, it’s because they’re _vampires!”_

“Matt, I think you need to go to sleep…”

Matt ignored her. “And what was the name of their shop?! That’s right! Blood Rose Gardens! Blood!”

Pidge sighed to herself and rubbed the insides of her eyes from beneath her glasses.

“And did you see how pale Keith was?!”

“Some people are pale, Matt,” Pidge mumbled.

Matt stood arms akimbo in the middle of her room, staring stoically off into the distance as if he was thinking very hard about what she had said. “Not like that, though. No one is _that_ pale.”

 _“You’re_ that pale!” Pidge complained, getting fed up with Matt’s insanity. “They’re not vampires! Go to sleep!” And with that, she grabbed the notebook that was sitting on her nightstand and lugged it at him. It hit his arm, causing him to yelp.

“Fine! But I’m telling you! Vampires!” He left the room, calling he last part over his shoulder with indignation.

Once he was out of earshot, Pidge scoffed to herself and readjusted her headphones. Vampires? Honestly, Matt. That would be ridiculous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. That's the end of my little story here. I'm sort of sad. I really love this AU and the response I got on it was phenomenal, so thank you to everyone for that! 
> 
> If you liked this story, I have plenty of others that you might also enjoy, so don't be afraid to check those out. If you like fairy tale type curses and self esteem issues, I've got a Penelope AU in the works, so you can stay tuned for that with a quick subscription. I think that's how this website works? I sound like a youtuber. Don't forget to SMASH THAT LIKE BUTTON!!!
> 
> Anyway, that is all. It's been a pleasure writing for y'all.

**Author's Note:**

> See y'all in three days for the next chapter!


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